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BILL'S  SCHOOL  AND  MINE 

A  COLLECTION  OF  ESSAYS 
ON  EDUCATION 


BY 


WILLIAM  SUDDARDS  FRANKLIN 

It 


SOUTH  BETHLEHEM,  PENNSYLVANIA 
FRANKLIN,  MACNUTT  and  CHARLES 

PUBLISHERS  OF  EDUCATIONAL  BOOKS 
I913 

All  rights  reserved 


Copyright,  19 13 
By  William  S.  Franklin 

EDUCATION  LIBHt 


PRESS  OF 

THE  NEW  ERA  PRINTING  COMPANY 

LANCASTER,  PA. 


F1 


Dedicated 

TO  A  University 

supported  and  controlled 

by  the  people  of 

Pennsylvania. 


Ill 


The  time  will  come  when  men  will  think  of  nothing  but 
education.  Nietsche. 


PREFACE. 

The  greater  part  of  the  essay,  BilVs  School 
and  Mine,  was  written  in  1903,  but  the  title  and 
some  of  the  material  were  borrowed  from  my 
friend  and  college  mate  William  Allen  White 
in  191 2,  when  the  essay  was  printed  in  the  South 
Bethlehem  Globe  to  stimulate  interest  in  a  local 
Playground  Movement. 

The  second  essay,  The  Study  of  Science,  is 
taken  from  Franklin  and  MacNutt's  Elements 
of  Mechanics,  The  Macmillan  Company,  New 
York,  1908.  I  have  no  illusions  concerning  the 
mathematical  sciences,  for  it  is  to  such  that  the 
essay  chiefly  relates.  Unquestionably  the  most 
important  function  of  education  is  to  develop 
personality  and  character;  but  science  is  imper- 
sonal, and  an  essay  which  attempts  to  set  forth 
the  meaning  of  science  study  must  make  an 
unusual  demand  upon  the  reader.  Some  things 
in  this  world  are  to  be  understood  by  sympathy, 
and  some  things  are  to  be  understood  by  serious 
and  painful  effort. 

The  third  essay.  Part  of  an  Education,  was 
privately  printed   in    1903   under   the   title  A 


VI  PREFACE. 

Tramp  Trip  in  the  Rockies,  and  it  is  introduced 
here  to  illustrate  a  phase  of  real  education 
which  is  in  danger  of  becoming  obsolete.  The 
school  of  hardship  is  not  for  those  who  love 
luxury,  and  to  the  poverty  stricken  it  is  not  a 
school — it  is  a  Juggernaut. 

The  five  minor  essays  are  mere  splashes,  as  it 
were;  but  in  each  I  have  said  everything  that 
need  be  said,  except  perhaps  in  the  matter  of 
exhortation. 

For  the  illustrations  I  am  under  obligations  to 
my  cousin  Mr.  Daniel  Garber  of  Philadelphia. 
William  Suddards  Franklin. 

South  Bethlehem,  Pa., 
October  22,  1913. 


TABLE   OF   CONTENTS. 

Pages. 

Bill's  School  and  Mine 1-2 1 

Play  as  a  Training  in  Application. .  22-26 

The  Energizing  of  Play 27-30 

The  Study  of  Science 31-56 

The  Discipline  of  Work 57-6o 

Part  of  an  Education 61-87 

The  Uses  of  Hardship 89-92 

The  Public  School 93-98 


Vll 


BILL'S  SCHOOL  AND  MINE 


It  seems  that  the  Japanese  have  domesticated  nature. 

Lafcadio  Hearne. 


I  always  think  of  my  school  as  my  boyhood. 
Until  I  was  big  enough  to  swim  the  Missouri 
River  my  home  was  in  a  little  Kansas  town,  and 
we  boys  lived  in  the  woods  and  in  the  water  all 
Summer,  and  in  the  woods  and  on  the  ice  all 
Winter.  We  trapped  and  hunted,  we  rowed  and 
fished,  and  built  dams,  and  cut  stick  horses,  and 
kept  stick-horse  livery  stables  where  the  grape- 
vines hung,  and  where  the  paw-paws  mellowed 
in  the  Fall.  We  made  mud  slides  into  our 
swimming  hole,  and  we  were  artists  in  mud- 
tattoo,  painting  face  and  body  with  thin  black 
mud  and  scraping  white  stripes  from  head  to 
foot.  We  climbed  the  trees  and  cut  our  names, 
we  sucked  the  sap  of  the  box  elder  and  squashed 
poke  berries  for  war  paint.  We  picked  wild 
grapes  and  gooseberries,  and  made  pop-guns  to 
shoot  green  haws.  In  the  Autumn  we  gathered 
walnuts,  and  in  the  Spring  we  greeted  the 
johnny-jump-ups,  and  the  sweet  williams  as  they 
peered  through  the  mold. 

Always,  we  boys  were  out  of  doors,  as  it  seems 
to  me;  and  I  did  the  chores.  It  is  something  to 
learn  the  toughness  of  hickory  under  the  saw, 
how  easily  walnut  splits,  how  mean  elm  is  to 

3 


4  bill's  school  and  mine. 

handle;  and  a  certain  dexterity  comes  to  a  boy 
who  teaches  a  calf  to  drink,  or  slops  hogs  without 
soiling  his  Sunday  clothes  in  the  evening.  And 
the  hay  makes  acrobats.  In  the  loft  a  boy  learns 
to  turn  flip-flops,  and  with  a  lariat  rope  he  can 
make  a  trapeze.  My  rings  were  made  by  pad- 
ding the  iron  rings  from  the  hubs  of  a  lumber 
wagon  and  swinging  them  from  the  rafters. 

Bill,  little  Bethlehem  Bill,  has  a  better  school 
than  I  had ;  the  house  and  the  things  that  go  with 
it.  Bill's  teachers  know  more  accurately  what 
they  are  about  than  did  my  teachers  in  the  old 
days  out  West  half  a  century  ago.  And,  of 
course,  Bill  is  getting  things  from  his  school  that 
I  did  not  get.  But  he  is  growing  up  with  a  woe- 
fully distorted  idea  of  life.  What  does  Bill 
know  about  the  woods  and  the  flowers?  Where 
in  Bill's  makeup  is  that  which  comes  from 
browsing  on  berries  and  nuts  and  the  rank  paw 
paw,  and  roaming  the  woods  like  the  Bander- 
log?  And  the  crops,  what  does  he  know  about 
them? 

The  silver-sides  used  to  live  in  the  pool  under 
the  limestone  ledges  by  the  old  stone  quarry 
where  the  snakes  would  sun  themselves  at  noon. 
The  wild  rose,  with  its  cinnamon-scented  flower 
and  curling  leaves,  used  to  bloom  in  May  for 


bill's  school  and  mine.  5 

me — for  me  and  a  little  brown-eyed  girl  who 
found  her  ink-bottle  filled  with  them  when  the 
school  bell  called  us  in  from  play.  And  on 
Saturdays  we  boys  roamed  over  the  prairies 
picking  wild  flowers,  playing  wild  plays  and 
dreaming  wild  dreams — children's  dreams.  Do 
you  suppose  that  little  Bill  dreams  such  dreams 
in  a  fifty-foot  lot  with  only  his  mother's  flowers 
in  the  window  pots  to  teach  him  the  great 
mystery  of  life? 

Bill  has  no  barn.  I  doubt  if  he  can  skin  a  cat, 
and  I  am  sure  he  cannot  do  the  big  drop  from 
the  trapeze.  To  turn  a  flip-flop  would  fill  him 
with  alarm,  and  yet  Jim  Betts,  out  in  Kansas, 
used  to  turn  a  double  flip-flop  over  a  stack  of 
barrels!  And  Jim  Betts  is  a  man  to  look  at. 
He  is  built  by  the  day.  He  has  an  educated 
body,  and  it  is  going  into  its  fifties  with  health 
and  strength  that  Bill  will  have  to  work  for. 
And  Jim  Betts  and  I  used  to  make  our  own  kites 
and  nigger-shooters  and  sleds  and  rabbit  traps. 

Bill's  school  seems  real  enough,  but  his  play 
and  his  work  seem  rather  empty.  Of  course  Bill 
cannot  have  the  fringe  of  a  million  square  miles 
of  wild  buffalo  range  for  his  out-of-doors.  No, 
Bill  cannot  have  that.  Never,  again.  And  to 
imagine  that  Bill  needs  anything  of  the  kind  is  to 


6  bill's  school  and  mine. 

forget  the  magic  of  Bill's  "make-believe!"  A 
tree,  a  brook,  a  stretch  of  grass!  What  old- 
world  things  Bill's  fancy  can  create  there! 
What  untold  history  repeat  itself  in  Bill's  most 
fragmentary  play!  Bill,  is  by  nature,  a  con- 
juror. Give  him  but  little  and  he  will  make  a 
world  for  himself,  and  grow  to  be  a  man.  Older 
people  seem,  however,  to  forget,  and  deprive 
Bill  of  the  little  that  he  needs;  and  it  is  worth 
while,  therefore,  to  develop  the  contrast  between 
Bill's  school  and  that  school  of  mine  in  the  long- 
ago  land  of  my  boyhood  out-of-doors. 

The  Land  of  Out-of-Doors!  What  irony 
there  is  in  such  glowing  phrase  to  city  boys  like 
Bill!  The  supreme  delight  of  my  own  boyhood 
days  was  to  gather  wild  flowers  in  a  wooded 
hollow,  to  reach  which  led  across  a  sunny  stretch 
of  wild  meadow  rising  to  the  sky;  and  I  would 
have  you  know  that  I  lived  as  a  boy  in  a  land 
where  a  weed  never  grew.*     I  wish  that  Bill 

*  The  western  prairies,  except  in  the  very  center  of  the  Mississippi 
Valley,  are  beautifully  rolling,  and  they  meet  every  stream  with 
deeply  carved  bluffs.  In  the  early  days  every  stream  was  fringed 
with  woods;  and  prairie  and  woodland,  alike,  knew  nothing  beyond 
the  evenly  balanced  contest  of  indigenous  life.  There  came,  how- 
ever, a  succession  of  strange  epidemics,  as  one  after  another  of  our 
noxious  weeds  gained  foothold  in  that  fertile  land.  I  remember 
well  several  years  when  dog-fennel  grew  in  every  nook  and  corner 
of  my  home  town  in  Kansas;  then,  after  a  few  years,  a  variety  pf 


bill's  school  and  mine.  7 

might  have  access  to  the  places  where  the  wild 
flowers  grow,  and  above  all  I  wish  that  Bill 
might  have  more  opportunity  to  see  his  father  at 
work.  A  hundred  years  ago  these  things  were 
within  the  reach  of  every  boy  and  girl ;  but  now, 
alas,  Bill  sees  no  other  manual  labor  than  the 
digging  of  a  ditch  in  a  cluttered  street,  or  stunted 
in  growth,  he  has  almost  become  a  part  of  the 
machine  he  daily  tends,  and  Boyville  has  become 
a  paved  and  guttered  city,  high-walled,  desolate, 
and  dirty;  with  here  and  there  a  vacant  lot 
hideous  with  refuse  in  early  Spring  and  over- 
whelmed with  an  increasing  pestilence  of  weeds 
as  the  Summer  days  go  by!  And  the  strangest 
thing  about  it  all  is,  that  Bill  accepts  unquestion- 
ingly,  and  even  with  manifestations  of  joy,  just 
any  sort  of  a  world,  if  only  it  is  flooded  with 
sunshine. 

I  remember  how,  in  my  boyhood,  the  rare  ad- 
vent of  an  old  tin  can  in  my  favorite  swimming 
hole  used  to  offend  me,  while  such  a  thing  as  a 
cast-off  shoe  was  simply  intolerable,  and  I  won- 

thistle  grew  to  the  exclusion  of  every  other  uncultivated  thing;  and 
then  followed  a  curious  epidemic  of  tumble-weed,  a  low  spreading 
annual  which  broke  off  at  the  ground  in  the  Fall  and  was  rolled 
across  the  open  country  in  countless  millions  by  the  Autumn  winds. 
I  remember  well  my  first  lone  "  beggar  louse,"  and  how  pretty  I 
thought  it  was !  And  my  first  dandelion,  and  of  that  I  have  never 
changed  my  opinion ! 


8  bill's  school  and  mine. 

der  that  Bill's  unquenchable  delight  in  out-door 
life  does  not  become  an  absolute  rage  in  his 
indifference  to  the  dreadful  pollution  of  the 
streams  and  the  universal  pestilence  of  weeds 
and  refuse  in  our  thickly  populated  districts. 

I  cannot  refrain  from  quoting  an  amusing 
poem  of  James  Whitcomb  Riley's,  which  ex- 
presses (more  completely  than  anything  I  know) 
the  delight  of  boys  in  out-door  life,  where  so 
many  things  happen  and  so  many  things  lure; 
and  you  can  easily  catch  in  the  swing  of  Riley's 
verse  that  wanton  note  which  is  ordinarily  so 
fascinatingly  boyish,  but  which  may  too  easily 
turn  to  a  raging  indifference  to  everything  that 
makes  for  purity  in  this  troubled  life  of  ours. 

Three  Jolly  Hunters. 

O  there  were  three  jolly  youngsters; 

And  a-hunting  they  did  go, 
With  a  setter-dog  and  a  pointer-dog 

And  a  yaller-dog  also. 
Looky  there! 

And  they  hunted  and  they  hal-looed; 

And  the  first  thing  they  did  find 
Was  a  dingling-dangling  hornets'  nest 

A-swinging  in  the  wind. 
Looky  there! 


I 


bill's  school  and  mine.  9 

And  the  first  one  said,  "  What  is  it?  " 

Said  the  next,  **  Let's  punch  and  see," 
And  the  third  one  said,  a  mile  from  there, 

"I  wish  we'd  let  it  be!" 
Looky  there!     (Showing  the  back  of  his  neck.) 

And  they  hunted  and  they  hal-looed  ; 

And  the  next  thing  they  did  raise 
Was  a  bobbin  bunnie  cotton-tail 

That  vanished  from  their  gaze. 
Looky  there! 

One  said  it  was  a  hot  baseball, 

Zippt  thru  the  brambly  thatch, 
But  the  others  said  'twas  a  note  by  post 

Or  a  telergraph  dispatch. 
Looky  there! 

So  they  hunted  and  they  hal-looed; 

And  the  next  thing  they  did  sight, 
Was  a  great  big  bull-dog  chasing  them, 

And  a  farmer  hollering  "  Skite !  " 
Looky  there! 

And  the  first  one  said  "  Hi-jinktum!" 

And  the  next,  "  Hi-jinktum-jee!  " 
And  the  last  one  said,  "  Them  very  words 

Has  just  occurred  to  me!  " 
Looky  there !     ( Showing  the  tattered  seat  of  his  pants. ) 

This  is  the  hunting  song  of  the  American  Ban- 


lo  bill's  school  and  mine. 

der-log,*  and  this  kind  of  hunting  is  better  than 
the  kind  that  needs  a  gun.     To  one  who  falls 

*  Road-Song  of  the  Bander-Log. 

(From  Kipling's  Jungle-Book.) 

Here  we  go  in  a  flung  festoon, 
Half  way  up  to  the  jealous  naoon! 
Don't  you  envy  our  pranceful  bands? 
Don't  you  wish  your  feet  were  hands? 
Wouldn't  you   like   if  your  tails  were — so- 
Curved  in  the  shape  of  a  cupid's  bow? 
Now  you're   angry,   but — never   mind — 
Brother,  thy  tail  hangs  down  behind! 

Here  we  sit  in  a  branchy  row, 
Thinking  of  beautiful  things  we  know; 
Dreaming  of  deeds  we  mean  to  do, 
All  complete  in  a  minute  or  two — 
Something  noble  and  grand  and  good, 
Done  by  merely  wishing  we  could. 
Now  we're  going  to — never  mind — 
Brother,   thy   tail   hangs   down   behind! 

All  the  talk  we  ever  have  heard 
Uttered  by  bat,  or  beast,  or  bird — 
Hide  or  scale  or  skin  or  feather — 
Jabber  it  quickly  and  altogether! 
Excellent!     Wonderful!     Once  again! 
Now   we   are   talking  just   like   men. 
Let's  pretend  we  are — never  mind — 
Brother,  thy  tail  hangs  down  behind! 
This  is  the  way  of  the  Monkey-kind. 

Then  join  our  leaping  lines  that  scumfish  through  the  pines, 
That  rocket  by  where  light  and  high  the  wild  grape  swings. 

By  the  rubbish  in  our  wake,  by  the  noble  noise  we  make, 
Be  sure,  be  sure,  we're  going  to  do  some  splendid  things. 


bill's  school  and  mine.  II 

into  the  habit  of  it,  the  gun  is  indeed  a  useless 
tool.  I  am  reminded  of  a  day  I  spent  with  a 
gun  at  a  remote  place  in  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
where,  during  the  25  days  I  have  camped  there 
on  four  different  trips,  I  have  seen  as  many  as 
150  of  the  wildest  of  North  American  animals, 
the  Rocky  Mountain  sheep.  I  lay  in  ambush 
for  three  hours  waiting  for  sheep,  and  the  sheep 
came ;  but  they  were  out  of  range  again  before  I 
saw  them  because  I  had  become  so  interested  in 
killing  mosquitoes !  I  timed  myself  at  intervals, 
and  80  per  minute  for  three  solid  hours  makes 
an  honest  estimate  of  14,400.  And  I  was 
hungry,  too.  I  fancy  the  sheep  were  not  fright- 
ened but  wished  the  good  work  to  go  on  un- 
disturbed. 

Do  you,  perhaps,  like  candy?  Did  you  ever 
consider  that  the  only  sweetmeat  our  forefathers 
had  for  thousands  of  years  was  wild  honey? 
And  those  sour  times — if  I  may  call  them  such 
— before  the  days  of  sugar  and  candy,  come 
much  nearer  to  us  than  you  realize,  for  I  can 
remember  my  own  grandfather's  tales  of  bee- 
hunting  in  Tennessee.  Just  imagine  how  excit- 
ing it  must  have  been  in  the  days  of  long-ago  to 
find  a  tree  loaded  with — candy!  A  bee  tree! 
If  Bill  were  to  go  back  with  me  to  the  wild 


12  bill's  school  and  mine. 

woods  of  Tennessee,  some  thrill  of  that  old 
excitement  would  well  up  from  the  depths  of  his 
soul  at  finding  such  a  tree.  You  may  wonder 
what  I  am  driving  at,  so  I  will  tell  you,  that  one 
of  the  most  exciting  experiences  of  my  boyhood 
was  a  battle  with  a  colony  of  bumble  bees.  I 
was  led  into  it  by  an  older  companion  and  the 
ardor  and  excitement  of  that  battle,  as  I  even  now 
remember  it,  are  wholly  inexplicable  to  me  ex- 
cept I  think  of  it  as  a  representation  through 
inherited  instinct  of  a  ten-thousand-years'  search 
for  wild  honey. 

My  schooling  grew  out  of  instinctive  reactions 
toward  natural  things ;  hunting  and  fishing,  dig- 
ging and  planting  in  the  Spring,  nutting  in  the 
Fall,  and  the  thousands  of  variations  which  these 
things  involve,  and  I  believe  that  the  play  of  in- 
stinct is  the  only  solid  basis  of  growth  of  a  boy  or 
girl.  I  believe,  furthermore,  that  the  very 
essence  of  boy  humor  is  bound  up  with  the  amaz- 
ing incongruity  of  his  instincts.  Was  there  ever 
a  boy  whose  instincts  (many  of  them  mere  fatuity 
like  his  digestive  appendix)  have  not  led  him 
time  and  again  into  just  thin  air,  to  say  nothing 
of  water  and  mud!  For  my  part  I  have  never 
known  anything  more  supremely  funny  than 
learning  what  a  hopeless  mess  of  wood  pulp  and 


bill's  school  and  mine.  13 

worms  a  bumble-bee's  nest  really  is,  except,  per- 
haps, seeing  another  boy  learn  the  same  stinging 
lesson. 

The  use  of  formulas,  too,  is  unquestionably  in- 
stinctive, and  we  all  know  how  apt  a  boy  is  to 
indulge  in  formulas  of  the  hocus-pocus  sort,  like 
Tom  Sawyer's  recipe  for  removing  warts  by  the 
combined  charm  of  black  midnight  and  a  black 
cat,  dead.  And  a  boy  arrives  only  late  in  his 
boyhood,  if  ever,  to  some  sense  of  the  distinction 
between  formulas  of  this  kind  and  such  as  are 
vital  and  rational.  I  think  that  there  is  much 
instruction  and  a  great  deal  of  humor  connected 
with  the  play  of  this  instinctive  tendency.  I  re- 
member a  great  big  boy,  a  hired  man  on  my 
grandfather's  farm,  in  fact,  who  was  led  into  a 
fight  with  a  nest  of  hornets  with  the  expectation 
that  he  would  bear  a  charmed  skin  if  he  shouted 
in  loud  repetition  the  words,  "  Jew's-harp,  jew's- 
harp." 

Talk  about  catching  birds  by  putting  salt  on 
their  tails  1  Once,  as  I  rowed  around  a  bend  on 
a  small  stream,  I  saw  a  sand-hill  crane  stalking 
along  the  shore.  Into  the  water  I  went  with  the 
suddenly  conceived  idea  that  I  could  catch  that 
crane,  and,  swimming  low,  I  reached  the  shore, 
about  20  feet  from  the  bird,  jumped  quickly  out 


14  bill's  school  and  mine. 

of  the  water,  made  a  sudden  dash  and  the  bird 
was  captured!  Once  I  saw  a  catfish,  gasping  for 
air  at  the  surface  of  water  that  had  been  muddied 
by  the  opening  of  a  sluice-way  in  a  dam.  Swim- 
ming up  behind  the  fish,  I  jambed  a  hand  into 
each  gill,  and,  helped  by  the  fish's  tail,  I  pushed 
it  ashore;  and  it  weighed  36  pounds!  A  friend 
of  mine,  by  the  name  of  Stebbins,  once  followed 
his  dog  in  a  chase  after  a  jack  rabbit.  The 
rabbit  made  a  wide  circle  and  came  back  to  its 
own  trail  some  distance  ahead  of  the  dog,  then  it 
made  a  big  sidewise  jump,  and  sat  looking  at  the 
dog  as  it  passed  by;  so  intently  indeed  that 
Stebbins  walked  up  behind  the  rabbit  and  took 
it  up  with  his  hands. 

I  think  you  will  agree  with  me  that  my  out- 
door school  was  a  wonderful  thing.  The  Land 
of  Out-of-Doors!  To  young  people  the  best 
school  and  play-house,  and  to  older  people  an 
endless  asylum  of  delight. 

"  The  grass  so  little  has  to  do, 
A  sphere  of  simple  green 
With  only  butterflies  to  brood 
And  bees  to  entertain. 

"  And  stir  all  day  to  pretty  tunes 
The  breezes  fetch  along, 
And  hold  the  sunshine  in  its  lap 
And  bow — to  everything. 


bill's  school  and  mine.  15 

"  And  thread  the  dew  all  night,  like  pearls, 
And  make  itself  so  fine, 
A  duchess  were  too  common 
For  such  a  noticing. 

"  And  even  when  it  dies,  to  pass 
In  odors  so  divine 
As  lowly  spices  gone  to  sleep, 
Or  amulets  of  pine. 

"  And  then  to  dwell  in  sovereign  barns 
And  dream  the  days  away, 
The  grass  so  little  has  to  do — 
I  wish  I  were  the  hay." 


The  most  important  thing,  I  should  say,  for 
the  success  of  Bill's  fine  school  is  that  ample  op- 
portunity be  given  to  Bill  for  every  variety  of 
play  including  swimming  and  skating,  and 
wherever  possible,  boating.  It  is  ridiculous  to 
attempt  to  teach  Bill  anything;  without  the  sub- 
stantial results  of  play  to  build  upon.  Play- 
grounds are  the  cheapest  and,  in  many  respects, 
the  best  of  schools,  but  they  are  almost  entirely 
lacking  in  many  of  our  towns  which  have  grown 
to  cities  in  a  generation  in  this  great  nation  of 
villagers.  The  Boroughs  of  the  Bethlehems, 
for  example,  have  no  playground  connected  with 


1 6  bill's  school  and  mine. 

a  Public  School,  nor  any  other  public  place 
where  boys  can  play  ball. 

WHAT   DO   YOU   THINK? 

(This  and  the  following  communication  are  from  a  small 
paper,  printed  and  published  by  two  Bethlehem  boys.) 

We,  the  editors,  have  been  dragged  along  back  alleys, 
across  open  sewers,  and  through  rank  growths  of  weed  and 
thistle  to  view  the  Monocacy  meadows  to  consider  the 
possibility  of  their  use  as  a  playground  or  park.  We  are  not 
much  impressed  with  the  proposal,  the  place  is  apparently 
hopeless,  but  the  park  enthusiast  could  not  be  touched  by 
argument.  To  our  very  practical  objection  that  the  cost 
would  be  excessive,  he  made  the  foolish  reply  that  there  is  no 
cost  but  a  saving  in  using  what  has  hitherto  been  wasted. 
To  our  expressed  disgust  for  the  open  sewers  and  filth  he 
replied  that  that  was  beside  the  question,  for,  as  he  said,  we 
must  sooner  or  later  take  care  of  the  filth  anyway.  But,  we 
said,  the  creek  is  contaminated  above  the  town.  Very  well, 
he  replied,  we  have  the  right  the  prohibit  such  contamination. 
But  worst  of  all,  in  double  meaning,  was  his  instant  agree- 
ment to  our  statement  that  we  had  our  cemeteries  which, 
he  said,  were  really  better  than  any  Bethlehem  park  could  be. 

COMMUNICATION. 

Dear  Editors:  I  took  a  walk  along  the  Monocacy  Creek 
on  Sunday  afternoon  and  discovered  clear  water  several  miles 
above  town  and  a  fine  skating  pond;  but  I  suppose  that  you 
and  all  of  your  subscribers  will  have  to  go  to  our  enterprising 
neighbor,  Allentown,  to  find  any  well-kept  ice  to  skate  on 


bill's  school  and  mine.  17 

this  Winter.  Most  people  think  that  you  boys  can  swim  in 
Nature's  own  water,  skate  on  Nature's  own  ice,  and  roam  in 
Nature's  own  woods,  but  it  is  absolutely  certain  that  your 
elders  must  take  some  care  and  pains  if  you  town  boys  are 
to  do  any  of  these  things.  And  yet,  here  in  the  East,  chil- 
dren are  said  to  be  brought  up  (implying  care  and  pains) 
and  hogs  are  said  to  be  raised  (implying  only  feeding).  I 
thank  the  Lord  that  I  was  "  raised  "  in  the  West  where 
there  are  no  such  false  distinctions. 

Your  subscriber,  S. 
P.  S. — As  I  came  home  covered  with  beggar-lice  and 
cockle-burrs  I  saw  a  ring  of  fire  on  South  Mountain,  an 
annual  occurrence  which  has  been  delayed  a  whole  week  this 
Autumn  by  a  flourish  of  posters  in  several  languages  offering 
One  Hundred  Dollars  Reward!  S. 

In  these  days  of  steam  and  electricity  we  boast 
of  having  conquered  nature.  Well,  we  have  got 
to  domesticate  nature  before  much  else  can  be  ac- 
complished in  this  country  of  ours.  We  have 
got  to  take  care  of  our  brooks  and  our  rivers,  of 
our  open  lands  and  our  wooded  hills.  We  have 
got  to  do  it,  and  Bill  would  be  better  off  if  we 
took  half  of  the  cost  of  his  fine  school  to  meet  the 
expense  of  doing  it.  When  I  was  a  boy  I  be- 
longed to  the  Bander-log,  but  Bill  belongs  to 
another  tribe,  the  Rats,  and  there  is  nothing  I 
would  like  so  much  to  do  as  to  turn  Pied  Piper 
and  lure  the  entire  brood  of  Bethlehem  boys  and 


1 8  bill's  school  and  mine. 

girls  to  Friedensville*  and  into  that  awful  chasm 
of  crystal  water  to  come  back  no  more,  no,  not 
even  when  an  awakened  civic  consciousness  had 
made  a  park  of  the  beautiful  Monocacy  mead- 
ows and  converted  the  creek  into  a  chain,  a  regu- 
lar Diamond  Necklace  of  swimming  holes.  I 
beg  the  garbage  men's  (not  a  printer's  error  for 
man's)  pardon  for  speaking  of  the  beautiful 
Monocacy  meadows.  I  refer  to  what  has  been 
and  to  what  might  easily  continue  to  be.  As  for 
the  Diamond  Necklace,  that,  of  course,  would 
have  to  be  above  our  gas  works  where  the  small 
stream  of  pure  tar  now  joins  the  main  stream. 

I  know  a  small  river  in  Kansas  which  is  bor- 
dered by  rich  bottom  lands  from  one-half  to  one 
mile  in  width  between  beautifully  scalloped 
bluffs — where  the  upland  prairie  ends.  In  early 
days  thick  covering  of  grass  was  everywhere, 
and  the  clear  stream,  teeming  with  life,  wound 
its  way  along  a  deep  channel  among  scattered 
clusters  of  large  walnut  trees  and  dense  groves 
of  elm  and  cotton  wood,  rippling  here  and  there 
over  beds  of  rock.  Now,  however,  every  foot 
of  ground,  high  and  low,  is  mellowed  by  the 
plow,  and  the  last  time  I  saw  the  once  beautiful 
valley  of  Wolf  River  it  was  as  if  the  whole  earth 

*  The  site  of  an  abandoned  zinc  mine,  where  a  few  of  the  Bethle- 
hem boys  go  to  swim. 


bill's  school  and  mine.  19 

had  melted  with  the  rains  of  June,  such  devasta- 
tion of  mud  was  there!  Surely  it  requires  more 
than  the  plow  to  domesticate  nature;  indeed, 
since  I  have  lived  between  the  coal-bearing  AUe- 
ghenies  and  the  sea,  I  have  come  to  believe  that 
it  may  require  more  than  the  plow  and  the 
crowded  iron  furnace,  such  pestilence  of  refuse 
and  filth  is  here! 

I  suppose  that  I  am  as  familiar  with  the  re- 
quirements of  modern  industry  as  any  man  liv- 
ing, and  as  ready  to  tolerate  everything  that  is 
economically  wise,  but  every  day  as  I  walk  to 
and  fro  I  see  our  Monocacy  Creek  covered  with 
a  scum  of  tar,  and  in  crossing  the  river  bridge  I 
see  a  half  mile  long  heap  of  rotting  refuse  serv- 
ing the  Lehigh  as  a  bank  on  the  southern  side; 
not  all  furnace  refuse  either  by  any  means,  but 
nameless  stinking  stuff  cast  off  by  an  indifferent 
population  and  carelessly  left  in  its  very  midst  in 
one  long  unprecedented  panorama  of  putrescent 
ugliness!  And  when,  on  splendid  Autumn 
days,  the  nearby  slopes  of  old  South  Mountain 
lift  the  eyes  into  pure  oblivion  of  these  distress- 
ing things,  I  see  again  and  again  a  line  of  fire 
sweeping  through  the  scanty  woods.  This  I 
have  seen  every  Autumn  since  first  I  came  to 
Bethlehem. 

It  is  easy  to  speak  in  amusing  hyperbole  of 


20  bill's  school  and  mine. 

garbage  heaps  and  of  brooks  befouled  with  tar, 
but  to  have  seen  one  useless  flourish  of  posters  on 
South  Mountain  in  fifteen  years!  That  is  be- 
yond any  possible  touch  of  humor.  It  is  indeed 
unfortunate  that  our  river  is  not  fit  for  boys  to 
swim  in,  and  it  is  not,  for  I  have  tried  it,  and  I 
am  not  fastidious  either,  having  lived  an  amphib- 
ious boyhood  on  the  banks  of  the  muddiest 
river  in  the  world;  but  it  is  a  positive  disgrace 
that  our  river  is  not  fit  to  look  at,  that  it  is  good 
for  nothing  whatever  but  to  drink;  much  too 
good,  one  would  think,  for  people  who  protect 
the  only  stretch  of  woodland  that  is  accessible  to 
their  boys  and  girls  by  a  mere  flourish  of  posters! 
I  was  born  in  Kansas  when  its  inhabitants 
were  largely  Indians,  and  when  its  greatest  re- 
source was  wild  buffalo  skins ;  and  whatever  ob- 
jection you  may  have  to  this  description  of  my 
present  home-place  between  the  coal-bearing 
Alleghenies  and  the  sea,  please  do  not  imagine 
that  I  have  a  sophisticated  sentimentality 
towards  the  Beauties  of  Nature!  No,  I  am  still 
enough  of  an  Indian  to  think  chiefly  of  my  belly 
when  I  look  at  a  stretch  of  country.  In  the  West 
I  like  the  suggestion  of  hog-and-hominy  which 
spreads  for  miles  and  miles  beneath  the  sky,  and 
here  in  the  East  I  like  the  promise  of  pillars  of 
fire  and  smoke  and  I  like  the  song  of  steam! 


bill's  school  and  mine.  21 

Bill's  School  and  Mine!  It  may  seem  that  I 
have  said  a  great  deal  about  my  school,  and  very 
little  about  Bill's.  But  what  is  Bill's  school? 
Surely,  Bill's  fine  school-house  and  splendid 
teachers,  and  Bill's  good  mother  are  not  all  there 
is  to  Bill's  school.  No,  Bill's  school  is  as  big  as 
all  Bethlehem,  and  in  its  bigger  aspects  it  is  a 
bad  school,  bad  because  Bill  has  no  opportunity 
to  play  as  a  boy  should  play,  and  bad  because 
Bill  has  no  opportunity  to  work  as  a  boy  should 
work. 

"  r  b'en  a-kindo  musin',  as  the  feller  says,  and  I'm 
About  o'  the  conclusion  that  they  ain't  no  better  time, 
When  you  come  to  cypher  on  It,  than  the  times  we  used 

to  know, 
When  we  swore  our  first  *  dog-gone-It '  sorto  solem'-like 

and  low. 

"  You  git  my  Idy,  do  you? — little  tads,  you  understand — 
Jes'  a  wishin',  thue  and  thue  you,  that  you  on'y  was  a  man. 
Yet  here  I  am  this  minute,  even  forty,  to  a  day. 
And  fergittin'  all  that's  In  It,  wishin'  jes  the  other  way!  " 

I  wonder  if  our  Bill  will  "wish  the  other 
way"  when  he  is  a  man?  Indeed,  I  wonder  if 
he  will  ever  BE  a  man.  If  we  could  only  count 
on  that.  Bill's  school  would  not  be  our  problem. 


PLAY  AS  A  TRAINING  IN 
APPLICATION. 


Never  yet  was  a  boy  who   dreamed 

of   ice-cream   sundaes   while 

playing  ball. 


Every  one  knows  that  play  means  health  and 
happiness  to  children,  and  nearly  every  one 
thinks  of  the  playgrounds  movement  as  based 
solely  on  ideals  of  health  and  ideals  of  happiness 
in  a  rather  narrow  sense;  but  the  movement 
means  much  more  than  health  and  happiness  as 
these  terms  are  generally  understood.  Play  is 
itself  the  most  fundamental  and  perhaps  the  most 
important  form  of  education. 

The  Indian  boy's  play,  which  included  prac- 
tice with  the  bow  and  arrow,  foot  racing,  ball 
playing  and  horse-back  riding,  was  perfectly 
adapted  to  the  needs  of  his  adult  life,  but  how 
about  base  ball  and  prisoner's  base  for  the  boy 
who  is  to  become  a  salesman  or  a  mechanic,  a 
physician  or  an  engineer?  Good  fun  and  a  good 
appetite  certainly  come  from  these  games,  and 
one  may  also  place  to  their  credit  a  tempered 
reasonableness  and  a  high  regard  for  what  is  fair 
and  square ;  but  as  a  training  in  intense  and  eager 
application,  nothing  can  take  their  place. 

Play  as  a  training  in  application!  that  cer- 
tainly is  a  paradox;  and  yet  everyone  knows  that 
play  is  the  first  thing  in  life  to  give  rise  to  that 
peculiar  overwhelming  eagerness  which  alone 

25 


26  bill's  school  and  mine. 

can  bring  every  atom  of  one's  strength  into  ac- 
tion. Ability  to  focus  one's  whole  mind  upon 
an  undertaking  and  to  apply  one's  whole  body  in 
concentrated  effort  is  what  our  boys  and  girls  are 
most  in  need  of,  and  vigorous  competitive  play 
serves  better  than  anything  else,  if,  indeed  there 
is  anything  else  to  create  it. 

Intense  and  eager  application!  That  means 
not  only  an  escape  from  laziness  and  apathy,  but 
eagerness  is  the  only  thing  in  the  world  that 
defies  fatigue.  A  healthy  boy  can  put  forth  an 
amazing  amount  of  physical  effort  and  be  fresh 
at  the  end  of  a  day  of  play.  And  a  man  whose 
habit  of  application  is  so  highly  developed  that 
it  assumes  a  quality  of  eagerness  and  never  fails 
in  absolute  singleness  of  purpose,  is  there  any 
limit  to  what  such  a  man  can  do? 


THE  ENERGIZING  OF  PLAY. 


Strenuous  play  leads  to  strenuous  work. 


Scarcely  more  than  a  generation  ago  every 
American  boy  came  under  the  spell  of  hunting 
and  fishing,  the  most  powerful  incitement  to 
laborious  days  and  the  most  potent  of  all  ano- 
dynes for  bodily  discomfort  and  hardship ;  and 
the  problem  of  educational  play  is  to  a  great 
extent  the  problem  of  finding  a  substitute  for  the 
lure  of  the  wild  for  the  energizing  of  play. 

The  lure  of  the  wild!  Alas  it  is  but  a  poet's 
fancy  in  this  tame  world  of  ours !  A  tame  world 
indeed;  but  it  is  peopled  by  a  perennial  race  of 
Wild  Indians,  our  children.  Fortunately,  how- 
ever, they  are  not  dependent  upon  completely 
truthful  externals.  They  do  not  need  a  million 
square  miles  of  wild  buffalo  country;  no,  they 
will  chase  an  imaginary  stag  'round  a  vacant  lot 
all  day,  if  only  there  is  a  mixture  of  earth  and 
sky  and  greenery  to  set  off  their  make  believe — 
and  eat  mush  and  milk  when  the  day  is  done ! 

But  even  youngsters  must  hunt  in  packs.  In- 
deed the  gang-idea  contains  the  ultimate  solution 
of  what  would  otherwise  be  an  impossible  prob- 
lem, namely,  to  find  an  efficient  substitute  for 
the  lure  of  the  wild  for  the  energizing  of  play. 
And  play  must  be  energized;  the  kind  of  play 

2q 


30  bill's  school  and  mine. 

that  educates;  the  kind  that  approaches  hunting 
or  fishing  or  tribal  warfare  or  the  settling  of  a 
blood-feud  in  its  alL-absorbing,  single-minded, 
strenuous  activity. 

It  is  silly  for  contented  towns-folk  to  say  "  let 
the  children  play,"  because  city  children  do  not 
play  by  merely  being  allowed  to  do  so.  They 
may  indeed  fight  or  steal,  or  sit  by  a  fire  in  a 
back  alley  talking  sex  like  grown-up  sordidly- 
imaginative  .Hottentots  in  Darkest  Africa;  but 
the  make-believe  of  natural  play  demands  flow- 
ing brooks  and  woodland-hills — or  a  little  sug- 
gestive example  and  organization  with  facilities 
for  the  kind  of  play  that  means  individual  and 
gang  competition. 


THE  STUDY  OF  SCIENCE. 


Grau  theurer  Freund  ist  alle  Theorle 
Und  griin  des  Lebens  goldener  Baum. 

Goethe. 


Everyone  realizes  the  constraint  that  is  placed 
upon  the  lives  of  men  by  the  physical  necessities 
of  the  world  in  which  we  live,  and  although  in 
one  way  this  constraint  is  more  and  more  re- 
lieved with  the  progress  of  the  applied  sciences, 
in  another  way  it  becomes  more  and  more  exact- 
ing. It  is  indeed  easier  to  cross  the  Atlantic 
Ocean  now  than  it  was  in  Leif  Ericsson's  time, 
but  consider  the  discipline  of  the  shop,  and 
above  all  consider  the  rules  of  machine  design! 
Could  even  the  hardy  Norsemen  have  known 
anything  as  uncompromisinglyexacting  as  these? 
To  do  things  becomes  easier  and  easier,  but  to 
learn  how  to  do  things  becomes  more  and  more 
difficult. 

Every  person  I  have  ever  talked  with,  old 
or  young,  theorist  or  practician,  student-in- 
general  or  specialist  in  whatever  line,  has  ex- 
hibited more  or  less  distinctly  a  certain  attitude 
of  impatience  towards  the  exactions  of  this  or 
that  phase  of  the  precise  modes  of  thought  of 
the  physical  sciences. 

"  Da  wird  der  Geist  Euch  wohl  dressiert 
In  spanische  Stiefeln  eingeschnuert." 

33 


34  BILLYS  SCHOOL  AND  MINE. 

In  a  recent  article*  on  the  distinction  between 
the  liberal  and  technical  in  education,  my  friend 
and  colleague,  Professor  Percy  Hughes,  says 
that  in  speaking  of  an  education  as  liberal  we 
thereby  associate  it  with  liberalism  in  politics,  in 
philosophy  and  theology,  and  in  men's  personal 
relations  with  each  other.  In  each  case  liberal- 
ism seems  fundamentally,  to  denote  freedom,  and 
liberalism  in  education  is  the  freedom  of  de- 
velopment in  each  individual  of  that  character 
and  personality  which  is  his  true  nature.  All 
this  I  accept  in  the  spirit  of  an  optimist,  assuming 
men's  true  natures  to  be  good,  but  I  do  not,  and 
I  am  sure  that  Professor  Hughes  does  not,  con- 
sider that  technical  education,  unless  it  be  inex- 
cusably harsh  and  narrow,  is  illiberal;  nor  that 
liberal  education,  unless  it  be  inexcusably  soft 
and  vague,  is  wholly  non-technical.  The  liberal 
and  the  technical  are  not  two  kinds  of  education, 
each  complete  in  itself.  Indeed,  Professor 
Hughes  speaks  of  liberal  education,  not  as  a 
category,  but  as  a  condition  which  makes  for 
freedom  of  development  of  personality  and 
character. 

It  seems  to  me,  however,  that  there  are  phases 
of  education  which  have  but  little  to  do  with 

*  Popular  Science  Monthly,  October,  1910. 


THE  STUDY  OF  SCIENCE.  35 

personality,  and  I  call  to  your  attention  this 
definition  of  liberalism  in  education,  in  order 
that  I  may  turn  sharply  away  from  it  as  a  partial 
definition  which,  to  a  great  extent,  excludes  the 
physical  sciences.  Indeed,  I  wish  to  speak  of  a 
condition  in  education  which  is  the  antithesis  of 
freedom.  I  wish  to  explain  the  teaching  of  ele- 
mentary physical  science  as  a  mode  of  constraint, 
as  an  impressed  constructive  discipline  without 
which  no  freedom  is  possible  in  our  dealings 
with  physical  things.  I  wish  to  characterize  the 
study  of  elementary  physical  science  as  a  reor- 
ganization of  the  workaday  mind  of  a  young  man 
as  complete  as  the  pupation  of  an  insect;  and  I 
wish  to  emphasize  the  necessity  of  exacting 
constraint  as  the  essential  condition  of  this  re- 
organization. 

There  is  a  kind  of  salamander,  the  axolotl, 
which  lives  a  tad-pole  like  youth  and  never 
changes  to  the  adult  form  unless  a  stress  of  dry 
weather  annihilates  his  watery  world;  but  he 
lives  always  and  reproduces  his  kind  as  a  tad- 
pole, and  a  very  funny-looking  tadpole  he  is, 
with  his  lungs  hanging  like  feathery  tassels  from 
the  sides  of  his  head.  When  the  aquatic  home 
of  the  axolotl  dries  up,  he  quickly  develops  a 
pair  of  internal  lungs,  lops  off  his  tassels  and 


36  bill's  school  and  mine. 

embarks  on  a  new  mode  of  life  on  land.  So  it 
is  with  our  young  men  who  are  to  develop  be- 
yond the  tadpole  stage,  they  must  meet  with 
quick  and  responsive  inward  growth  that  new 
and  increasing  ^'stress  of  dryness,"  as  many  are 
wont  to  call  our  modern  age  of  science  and 
organized  industry. 

Stress  of  dryness!  Indeed  no  flow  of  humor 
is  to  be  found  in  the  detached  impersonalities 
of  the  sciences,  and  if  we  are  to  understand  the 
characteristics  of  physical  science  we  must  turn 
our  attention  to  things  which  lead  inevitably  to 
an  exacting  and  rigid  mathematical  philosophy. 
It  certainly  is  presumptive  to  tell  a  reader  that 
he  must  turn  his  attention  to  such  a  thing,  but 
there  is  no  other  way;  the  best  we  can  do  is  to 
choose  the  simplest  path.  Let  us  therefore  con- 
sider the  familiar  phenomena  of  motion. 

The  most  prominent  aspect  of  all  phenomena 
is  motion.  In  that  realm  of  nature  which  is  not 
of  man's  devising*  motion  is  universal.     In  the 

*  Science  as  young  people  study  it  has  two  chief  aspects,  or  in 
other  words,  it  may  be  roughly  divided  into  two  parts,  namely, 
the  study  of  the  things  ivhich  come  upon  us,  as  it  were,  and  the 
study  of  the  things  nvhich  ive  deliberately  demse.  The  things  that 
come  upon  us  include  weather  phenomena  and  every  aspect  and 
phase  of  the  natural  world,  the  things  we  cannot  escape;  and  the 
things  we  devise  relate  chiefly  to  the  serious  work  of  the  world,  the 
things  we  laboriously  build  and  the  things  we  deliberately  anc| 
patiently  seek. 


THE  STUDY  OF  SCIENCE.  37 


Other  realm  of  nature,  the  realm  of  thmgs 
devised,  motion  is  no  less  prominent.  Every 
purpose  of  our  practical  life  is  accomplished  by 
movements  of  the  body  and  by  directed  move- 
ments of  tools  and  mechanisms,  such  as  the  swing 
of  scythe  and  flail,  and  the  studied  movements  of 
planer  and  lathe  from  v^hich  are  evolved  the 
strong-armed  steam  shovel  and  the  deft-fingered 
loom. 

The  laws  of  motion.  Every  one  has  a  sense  of 
the  absurdity  of  the  idea  of  reducing  the  more 
complicated  phenomena  of  nature  to  an  orderly 
system  of  mechanical  law.  To  speak  of  motion 
is  to  call  to  mind  first  of  all  the  phenomena  that 
are  associated  with  the  excessively  complicated, 
incessantly  changing,  turbulent  and  tumbling 
motion  of  wind  and  water.  These  phenomena 
have  always  had  the  most  insistent  appeal  to  us, 
they  have  confronted  us  everywhere  and  always^ 
and  life  is  an  unending  contest  with  their  for- 
tuitous diversity,  which  rises  only  too  often  to 
irresistible  sweeps  of  destruction  in  fire  and 
flood,  and  in  irresistible  crash  of  collision  and 
collapse  where  all  things  mingle  in  one  dread 
fluid  confusion!  The  laws  of  motion!  Con- 
sider the  awful  complexity  of  a  disastrous  tor- 
nado or  the  dreadful  confusion  of  a  railway 


38  bill's  school  and  mine. 

wreck,  and  understand  that  what  we  call  the  laws 
of  motion,  although  they  have  a  great  deal  to  do 
with  the  ways  in  which  we  think,  have  very  little 
to  do  with  the  phenomena  of  nature.  The  laws 
of  motion!  There  is  indeed  a  touch  of  arro- 
gance in  such  a  phrase  with  its  unwarranted  sug- 
gestion of  completeness  and  universality,  and  yet 
the  ideas  which  constitute  the  laws  of  motion 
have  an  almost  unlimited  extent  of  legitimate 
range,  and  these  ideas  must  be  possessed  with  a 
perfect  precision  if  one  is  to  acquire  any  solid 
knowledge  whatever  of  the  phenomena  of  motion. 
The  necessity  of  precise  ideas.  Herein  lies  the 
impossibility  of  compromise  and  the  necessity  of 
coercion  and  constraint;  one  must  think  so  and 
so,  there  is  no  other  way.  And  yet  there  is 
always  a  conflict  in  the  mind  of  even  the  most 
willing  student  because  of  the  constraint  which 
precise  ideas  place  upon  our  vivid  and  primi- 
tively adequate  sense  of  physical  things ;  and  this 
conflict  is  perennial  but  it  is  by  no  means  a  one- 
sided conflict  between  mere  crudity  and  refine- 
ment, for  refinement  ignores  many  things.  In- 
deed, precise  ideas  not  only  help  to  form*  our 
sense  of  the  world  in  which  we  live  but  they 
inhibit  sense  as  well,  and  their  rigid  and  un- 

*  See  discussion  of  Bacon's  New  Engine  on  page  52. 


THE  STUDY  OF  SCIENCE.  39 

challenged  rule  would  be  indeed  a  stress  of 
dryness. 

The  laws  of  motion.  We  return  again  and 
yet  again  to  the  subject,  for  one  is  not  to  be  de- 
terred therefrom  by  any  concession  of  inade- 
quacy, no,  nor  by  any  degree  of  respect  for  the 
vivid  youthful  sense  of  those  things  which  to  suit 
our  narrow  purpose  must  be  stripped  completely 
bare.  It  is  unfortunate,  however,  that  the  most 
familiar  type  of  motion,  the  flowing  of  water  or 
the  blowing  of  the  wind,  is  bewilderingly  use- 
less as  a  basis  for  the  establishment  of  the  simple 
and  precise  ideas  which  are  called  the  "laws  of 
motion,"  and  which  are  the  most  important  of 
the  fundamental  principles  of  physics.  These 
ideas  have  in  fact  grown  out  of  the  study  of  the 
simple  phenomena  which  are  associated  with 
the  motion  of  bodies  in  bulk  without  perceptible 
change  of  form,  the  motion  of  rigid  bodies,  so 
called. 

Before  narrowing  down  the  scope  of  the  dis- 
cussion, however,  let  us  illustrate  a  very  general 
application  of  the  simplest  idea  of  motion,  the 
idea  of  velocity.  Every  one  has,  no  doubt,  an 
idea  of  what  is  meant  by  the  velocity  of  the  wind ; 
and  a  sailor,  having  what  he  calls  a  ten-knot 
wind,  knows  that  he  can  manage  his  boat  with  a 


40  bill's  school  and  mine. 

certain  spread  of  canvas  and  that  he  can  accom- 
plish a  certain  portion  of  his  voyage  in  a  given 
time;  but  an  experienced  sailor,  although  he 
speaks  glibly  of  a  ten-knot  wind,  belies  his  speech 
by  taking  wise  precaution  against  every  conceiv- 
able emergency.  He  knows  that  a  ten-knot 
wind  is  by  no  means  a  sure  or  a  simple  thing  with 
its  incessant  blasts  and  whirls;  and  a  sensitive 
anemometer,  having  more  regard  for  minutiae 
than  any  sailor,  usually  registers  in  every  wind  a 
number  of  almost  complete  but  excessively 
irregular  stops  and  starts  every  minute  and  varia- 
tions of  direction  that  sweep  around  half  the 
horizon ! 

Wer  will  was  Lebendig's  erkennen  und  beschrelben 
Sucht  erst  den  Gelst  heraus  zu  trelben. 

Goethe. 

We  must  evidently  direct  our  attention  to 
something  simpler  than  the  wind.  Let  us,  there- 
fore, consider  the  drawing  of  a  wagon  or  the 
propulsion  of  a  boat.  It  is  a  familiar  experience 
that  effort  is  required  to  start  a  body  moving  and 
that  continued  effort  is  required  to  maintain  the 
motion.  Certain  very  simple  facts  as  to  the 
nature  and  effects  of  this  effort  were  discovered 


I 


THE  STUDY  OF  SCIENCE.  41 

by  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  and  on  the  basis  of  these 
facts  Newton  formulated  the  laws  of  motion. 

The  effort  required  to  start  a  body  or  to  keep  It  mov- 
ing is  called  force.  Thus,  if  one  starts  a  box  sliding 
along  a  table  one  is  said  to  exert  a  force  on  the  box. 
The  same  effect  might  be  accomplished  by  interposing 
a  stick  between  the  hand  and  the  box,  in  which  case 
one  would  exert  a  force  on  the  stick  and  the  stick  in  its 
turn  would  exert  a  force  on  the  box.  We  thus  arrive 
at  the  notion  of  force  action  between  inanimate  bodies, 
between  the  stick  and  the  box  in  this  case,  and  Newton 
pointed  out  that  the  force  action  between  the  two 
bodies  A  and  B  always  consists  of  two  equal  and 
opposite  forces,  that  is  to  say,  if  body  A  exerts  a  force 
on  Bj  then  B  exerts  an  equal  and  opposite  force  on  Aj 
or,  to  use  Newton's  words,  action  is  equal  to  reaction 
and  in  a  contrary  direction. 


In  leading  up  to  this  statement  one  might  con- 
sider the  force  with  which  a  person  pushes  on 
the  box  and  the  equal  and  opposite  force  with 
which  the  box  pushes  back  on  the  person,  but  if 
one  does  not  wish  to  introduce  the  stick  as  an 
intermediary,  it  is  better  to  speak  of  the  force 
with  which  the  hand  pushes  on  the  box,  and  the 
equal  and  opposite  force  with  which  the  box 
pushes  back  on  the  hand,  because  in  discussing 
physical  phenomena  it  is  of  the  utmost  im- 
portance to  pay  attention  only  to  impersonal 


42  bill's  school  and  mine. 

things.  Indeed  our  modern  industrial  life,  in 
bringing  men  face  to  face  with  an  entirely  un- 
precedented array  of  intricate  mechanical  and 
physical  problems,  demands  of  every  one  a  great 
and  increasing  amount  of  impersonal  thinking, 
and  the  precise  and  rigorous  modes  of  thought 
of  the  physical  sciences  are  being  forced  upon 
widening  circles  of  men  with  a  relentless  insis- 
tence— all  of  which  it  was  intended  to  imply  by 
referring  to  the  "stress  of  dryness"  which  over- 
takes the  little  axolotl  in  his  contented  existence 
as  a  tadpole. 

When  we  examine  into  the  conditions  under  which 
a  body  starts  to  move  and  the  conditions  under  which 
a  body  once  started  is  kept  in  motion,  we  come  across 
a  very  remarkable  fact,  if  we  are  careful  to  consider 
every  force  which  acts  upon  the  body,  and  this  remark- 
able fact  is  that  the  forces  which  act  upon  a  body  at  rest 
are  related  to  each  other  in  precisely  the  same  way  as 
the  forces  which  act  upon  a  body  moving  steadily  along 
a  straight  path.  Therefore  it  is  convenient  to  consider, 
first  the  relation  between  the  forces  which  act  upon  a 
body  at  rest,  or  upon  a  body  in  uniform  motion,  and 
second  the  relation  between  the  forces  which  act  upon 
a  body  which  is  starting  or  stopping  or  changing  the 
direction  of  its  motion. 

Suppose  a  person  A  were  to  hold  a  box  in  mid-air. 
To  do  so  it  would  of  course  be  necessary  for  him  to  push 
upwards  on  the  box  so  as  to  balance  the  downward  pull 


THE  STUDY  OF  SCIENCE.  43 

of  the  earth,  the  weight  of  the  box  as  It  is  called.  If 
another  person  B  were  to  take  hold  of  the  box  and  pull 
upon  it  in  any  direction,  A  would  have  to  exert  an 
equal  pull  on  the  box  in  the  opposite  direction  to  keep 
it  stationary.  The  forces  which  act  upon  a  stationary 
body  are  always  balanced. 

Every  one,  perhaps,  realizes  that  what  is  here  said 
about  the  balanced  relation  of  the  forces  which  act  upon 
a  stationary  box,  is  equally  true  of  the  forces  which  act 
on  a  box  similarly  held  in  a  steadily  moving  railway  car 
or  boat.  Therefore,  the  forces  which  act  upon  a  body 
which  moves  steadily  along  a  straight  path  are  balanced. 

This  is  evidently  true  when  the  moving  body  is  sur- 
rounded on  all  sides  by  things  which  are  moving  along 
with  it,  as  in  a  car  or  a  boat;  but  how  about  a  body 
which  moves  steadily  along  a  straight  path  but  which 
is  surrounded  by  bodies  which  do  not  move  along  with 
it?  Everyone  knows  that  some  active  agent  such  as  a 
horse  or  a  steam  engine  must  pull  steadily  upon  such 
a  body  to  keep  it  in  motion.  If  left  to  itself  such  a 
moving  body  quickly  comes  to  rest.  Many  have,  no 
doubt,  reached  this  further  ini^erence  from  experience, 
namely,  that  the  tendency  of  moving  bodies  to  come  to 
rest  is  due  to  the  dragging  forces,  or  friction,  with  which 
surrounding  bodies  act  upon  a  body  in  motion.  Thus  a 
moving  boat  is  brought  to  rest  by  the  drag  of  the  water 
when  the  propelling  force  ceases  to  act;  a  train  of  cars 
is  brought  to  rest  because  of  the  drag  due  to  friction 
when  the  pull  of  the  locomotive  ceases;  a  box  which  is 
moving  across  a  table  comes  to  rest  when  left  to  itself, 
because  of  the  drag  due  to  friction  between  the  box  and 
the  table. 


44  bill's  school  and  mine. 

We  must,  therefore,  always  consider  two  distinct 
forces  when  we  are  concerned  with  a  body  which  is 
kept  in  motion,  namely,  the  propelling  force  due  to 
some  active  agent  such  as  a  horse  or  an  engine,  and  the 
dragging  force  due  to  surrounding  bodies.  Newton 
pointed  out  that  when  a  body  Is  moving  steadily  along 
a  straight  path,  the  propelling  force  Is  always  equal  and 
opposite  to  the  dragging  force.  Therefore,  The  forces 
which  act  upon  a  body  which  is  stationary,  or  which  is 
moving  uniformly  along  a  straight  path,  are  balanced 
forces. 

Many  hesitate  to  accept  as  a  fact  the  complete  and 
exact  balance  of  propelling  and  dragging  forces  on  a 
body  which  is  moving  steadily  along  a  straight  path  In 
the  open,  but  direct  experiment  shows  It  to  be  true,  and 
the  most  elaborate  calculations  and  inferences  based 
upon  this  Idea  of  the  complete  balance  of  propelling  and 
dragging  forces  on  a  body  in  uniform  motion  are  verified 
by  experiment.  One  may  ask,  why  a  canal  boat,  for 
example,  should  continue  to  move  If  the  pull  of  the 
mule  does  not  exceed  the  drag  of  the  water;  but  why 
should  it  stop  if  the  drag  does  not  exceed  the  pull? 
Understand  that  we  are  not  considering  the  starting  of 
the  boat.  The  fact  Is  that  the  conscious  effort  which 
one  must  exert  to  drive  a  mule,  the  cost  of  the  mule, 
and  the  expense  of  his  keep,  are  what  most  people 
think  of,  however  hard  one  tries  to  direct  their  atten- 
tion solely  to  the  state  of  tension  In  the  rope  that  hitches 
the  mule  to  the  boat  after  the  boat  is  In  full  motion; 
and  most  people  consider  that  if  the  function  of  the 
mule  is  simply  to  balance  the  drag  of  the  water  so  as 


THE  STUDY  OF  SCIENCE.  45 

to  keep  the  boat  from  stopping,  then  why  should  there 
not  be  some  way  to  avoid  the  cost  of  so  insignificant  an 
operation?  There  is,  indeed,  an  extremely  important 
matter  involved  here,  but  it  has  no  bearing  on  the 
question  as  to  the  balance  of  propulsion  and  drag  on  a 
body  which  moves  steadily  along  a  straight  path. 

Let  us  now  consider  the  relation  between  the  forces 
which  act  upon  a  body  which  is  changing  its  speed,  upon 
a  body  which  is  being  started  or  stopped,  for  example. 
Everyone  has  noticed  how  a  mule  strains  at  his  rope 
when  starting  a  canal  boat,  especially  if  the  boat  is 
heavily  loaded,  and  how  the  boat  continues  to  move  for 
a  long  time  after  the  mule  ceases  to  pull.  In  the  first 
case,  the  pull  of  the  mule  greatly  exceeds  the  drag  of 
the  water,  and  the  speed  of  the  boat  increases;  in  the 
second  case,  the  drag  of  the  water  of  course  exceeds  the 
pull  of  the  mule,  for  the  mule  is  not  pulling  at  all,  and 
the  speed  of  the  boat  decreases.  When  the  speed  of  a 
body  is  changing,  the  forces  which  act  on  the  body  are 
unbalanced.  We  may  conclude  therefore  that  the 
effect  of  an  unbalanced  force  acting  on  a  body  is  to 
change  the  velocity  of  the  body,  and  it  is  evident  that 
the  longer  the  unbalanced  force  continues  to  act  the 
greater  the  change  of  velocity.  Thus  if  the  mule 
ceases  to  pull  on  a  canal  boat  for  one  second  the 
velocity  of  the  boat  will  be  but  slightly  reduced  by  the 
unbalanced  drag  of  the  water,  whereas  if  the  mule  ceases 
to  pull  for  two  seconds  the  decrease  of  velocity  will  be 
much  greater.  In  fact  the  change  of  velocity  due  to  a 
given  unbalanced  force  is  proportional  to  the  time  that 
the  force  continues  to  act.     This  is  exemplified  by  a 


46  bill's  school  and  mine. 

body  falling  under  the  action  of  the  unbalanced  pull  of 
the  earth ;  after  one  second  it  will  have  gained  a  certain 
amount  of  velocity  (about  32  feet  per  second),  after 
two  seconds  it  will  have  made  a  total  gain  of  twice  as 
much  velocity  (about  64  feet  per  second),  and  so  on. 

Since  the  velocity  produced  by  an  unbalanced  force  is 
proportional  to  the  time  that  the  force  continues  to  act, 
it  is  evident  that  the  effect  of  the  force  should  be 
specified  as  so-much-velocity-produced-per-second,  ex- 
actly as  in  the  case  of  earning  money,  the  amount  one 
earns  is  proportional  to  the  length  of  time  that  one 
continues  to  work,  and  we  always  specify  one's  earning 
capacity  as  so-much-money-earned-per-day. 

Everyone  knows  what  it  means  to  give  an  easy  pull 
or  a  hard  pull  on  a  body.  That  is  to  say,  we  all  have 
the  ideas  of  greater  and  less  as  applied  to  forces. 
Everybody  knows  also  that  if  a  mule  pulls  hard  on  a 
canal  boat,  the  boat  will  get  under  way  more  quickly 
than  if  the  pull  is  easy,  that  is,  the  boat  will  gain  more 
velocity  per  unit  of  time  under  the  action  of  a  hard 
pull  than  under  the  action  of  an  easy  pull.  There- 
fore, any  precise  statement  of  the  effect  of  an  unbal- 
anced force  on  a  given  body  must  correlate  the  precise 
value  of  the  force  and  the  exact  amount  of  velocity  pro- 
duced per  unit  of  time  by  the  force.  This  seems  a  very 
difficult  thing,  but  its  apparent  difficulty  is  very  largely 
due  to  the  fact  that  we  have  not  as  yet  agreed  as  tA 
what  we  are  to  understand  by  the  statement  that  one 
force  is  precisely  three,  or  four,  or  any  number  of  times 
as  great  as  another.  Suppose,  therefore,  that  we  agree 
to  call  one  force  twice  as  large  as  another  when  it  will 


THE  STUDY  OF  SCIENCE.  47 


produce  in  a  given  body  twice  as  much  velocity  in  a 
given  time  (remembering  of  course  that  we  are  now 
talking  about  unbalanced  forces,  or  that  we  are  assum- 
ing for  the  sake  of  simplicity  of  statement,  that  no 
dragging  forces  exist).  As  a  result  of  this  definition 
we  may  state  that  the  amount  of  velocity  produced  per 
second  in  a  given  body  by  an  unbalanced  force  is  pro- 
portional to  the  force. 

Of  course  we  know  no  more  about  the  matter 
in  hand  than  we  did  before  we  adopted  the 
definition,  but  we  do  have  a  good  illustration  of 
how  important  a  part  is  played  in  the  study  of 
physical  science,  by  what  we  may  call  making  up 
one's  mind,  in  the  sense  of  putting  one's  mind  in 
order.  This  kind  of  thing  is  very  prominent  in 
the  study  of  elementary  physics,  and  the  rather 
indefinite  reference  (in  the  story  of  the  little 
tasseled  tadpole)  to  an  inward  growth  as  needful 
before  one  can  hope  for  any  measure  of  success 
in  our  modern  world  of  scientific  industry  was 
an  allusion  to  this  thing,  the  "making-up"  of 
one's  mind.  Nothing  is  so  essential  in  the  ac- 
iquirement  of  exact  and  solid  knowledge  as  the 
possession  of  precise  ideas,  not  indeed  that  a 
perfect  precision  is  necessary  as  a  means  for  re- 
taining  knowledge,    but   that    nothing    else   so 


48  bill's  school  and  mine. 

effectually  opens  the  mind  for  the  perception 
even  of  the  simplest  evidences  of  a  subject.* 

We  have  now  settled  the  question  as  to  the  effect  of 
different  unbalanced  forces  on  a  given  body  on  the  basis 
of  very  general  experience,  and  by  an  agreement  as  to 
the  precise  meaning  to  be  attached  to  the  statement 
that  one  force  is  so  many  times  as  great  as  another;  but 
how  about  the  effect  of  the  same  force  upon  different 
bodies,  and  how  may  we  identify  the  force  so  as  to  be 
sure  that  It  is  the  same?  It  is  required,  for  example,  to 
exert  a  given  force  on  body  A  and  then  exert  the  same 
force  on  another  body  B.  This  can  be  done  by  causing 
a  third  body  C  (a  coiled  spring,  for  example)  to  exert 
the  force;  then  the  forces  exerted  on  A  and  B  are  the 
same  if  the  reaction  in  each  case  produces  the  same  effect 
on  body  C  (the  same  degree  of  stretch,  for  example). 
Concerning  the  effects  of  the  same  unbalanced  force  on 
different  bodies  three  things  have  to  be  settled  by  ex- 
periment as  follows: 

(a)  In  the  first  place  let  us  suppose  that  a  certain 
force  F  is  twice  as  large  as  a  certain  other  force  G,  ac- 
cording to  our  agreement,  because  the  force  F  produces 
twice  as  much  velocity  every  second  as  force  G  when 
the  one  and  then  the  other  of  these  forces  is  caused  to 
act  upon  a  given  body,  a  piece  of  lead  for  example. 
Then,  does  the  force  F  produce  twice  as  much  velocity 

*  Opens  the  mind,  that  is,  for  those  things  which  are  conformable 
to  or  consistent  with  the  ideas.  The  history  of  science  presents  many 
cases  where  accepted  ideas  have  closed  the  mind  to  contrary  evi- 
dences for  many  generations.     Let  young  men  beware! 


THE  STUDY  OF  SCIENCE.  49 

every  second  as  the  force  G  whatever  the  nature  and 
size  of  the  given  body,  whether  It  be  wood,  or  Ice,  or 
sugar?     Experiment  shows  that  It  does. 

(b)  In  the  second  place,  suppose  that  we  have  such 
amounts  of  lead,  or  Iron,  or  wood,  etc.,  that  a  certain 
given  force  produces  the  same  amount  of  velocity  per 
second  when  It  Is  made  to  act,  as  an  unbalanced  force, 
upon  one  or  another  of  these  various  bodies.  Then 
what  Is  the  relation  between  the  amounts  of  these  vari- 
ous substances?  Experiment  shows  that  they  all  have 
the  same  mass  In  grams,  or  pounds,  as  determined  by  a 
balance.  That  Is,  a  given  force  produces  the  same 
amount  of  velocity  per  second  In  a  given  number  of 
grams  of  any  kind  of  substance.  Thus  the  earth  pulls 
with  a  certain  definite  force  (In  a  given  locality)  upon 
M  grams  of  any  substance  and,  aside  from  the  dragging 
forces  due  to  air  friction,  all  kinds  of  bodies  gain  the 
same  amount  of  velocity  per  second  when  they  fall 
under  action  of  the  unbalanced  pull  of  the  earth. 

(c)  In  the  third  place,  what  Is  the  relation  between 
the  velocity  per  second  produced  by  a  given  force  and 
the  mass  In  grams  (or  pounds)  of  the  body  upon  which 
It  acts.  Experiment  shows  that  the  velocity  per  second 
produced  by  a  given  force  is  inversely  proportional  to  the 
mass  of  the  body  upon  which  the  force  acts.  In  speak- 
ing of  the  mass  of  the  body  In  grams  (or  pounds)  we 
here  refer  to  the  result  which  Is  obtained  by  weighing 
the  body  on  a  balance  scale,  and  the  experimental  fact 
which  Is  here  referred  to  constitutes  a  very  Important 
discovery:  namely,  when  one  body  has  twice  the  mass 
of  another,  according  to  the  balance  method  of  measur- 


50  bill's  school  and  mine. 

ing  mass,  It  is  accelerated  half  as  fast  by  a  given  un- 
balanced force. 

The  effect  of  an  unbalanced  force  in  producing 
velocity  may  therefore  be  summed  up  as  follows:  The 
velocity  per  second  produced  by  an  unbalanced  force  is 
proportional  to  the  force  and  inversely  proportional  to 
the  mass  of  the  body  upon  which  the  force  acts,  and  the 
velocity  produced  by  an  unbalanced  force  is  always  in 
the  direction  of  the  force. 


"We  advise  all  men,"  says  Bacon,  "to  think 
of  the  true  ends  of  knowledge,  and  that  they  en- 
deavor not  after  it  for  curiosity,  contention,  or 
the  sake  of  despising  others,  nor  yet  for  reputa- 
tion or  power  or  any  other  such  inferior  con- 
sideration, but  solely  for  the  occasions  and  uses 
of  life."  It  is  difficult  to  imagine  any  other 
basis  upon  which  the  study  of  physics  can  be 
justified  than  for  the  occasions  and  uses  of  life; 
in  a  certain  broad  sense,  indeed,  there  is  no  other 
justification.  But  the  great  majority  of  men 
must  needs  be  practical  in  the  narrow  sense,  and 
physics,  as  the  great  majority  of  men  study  it, 
relates  chiefly  to  the  conditions  which  have  been 
elaborated  through  the  devices  of  industry  as 
exemplified  in  our  mills  and  factories,  in  our 
machinery  of  transportation,  in  optical  and 
musical  instruments,  in  the  means  for  the  supply 


THE  STUDY  OF  SCIENCE.  5 1 

of  power,  heat,  light,  and  water  for  general  and 
domestic  use,  and  so  on. 

From  this  narrow  practical  point  of  view  it 
may  seem  that  there  can  be  nothing  very  exacting 
in  the  study  of  the  physical  sciences;  but  what 
is  physics?  That  is  the  question.  One  defini- 
tion at  least  is  to  be  repudiated;  it  is  not  "The 
science  of  masses,  molecules  and  the  ether." 
Bodies  have  mass  and  railways  have  length,  and 
to  speak  of  physics  as  the  science  of  masses  is  as 
silly  as  to  define  railroading  as  the  practice  of 
lengths,  and  nothing  as  reasonable  as  this  can  be 
said  in  favor  of  the  conception  of  physics  as  the 
science  of  molecules  and  the  ether;  it  is  the 
sickliest  possible  notion  of  physics,  whereas  the 
healthiest  notion,  even  if  a  student  does  not 
wholly  grasp  it,  is  that  physics  is  the  science  of 
the  ways  of  taking  hold  of  things  and  pushing 
them ! 

Bacon  long  ago  listed  in  his  quaint  way  the 
things  which  seemed  to  him  most  needful  for  the 
advancement  of  learning.  Among  other  things 
he  mentioned  "  A  New  Engine  or  a  Help  to  the 
mind  corresponding  to  Tools  for  the  hand,"  and 
the  most  remarkable  aspect  of  present-day 
physical  science  is  that  aspect  in  which  it  con- 
stitutes  a  realization  of  this  New  Engine  of 


52  bill's  school  and  mine. 

Bacon.  We  continually  force  upon  the  ex- 
tremely meager  data  obtained  directly  through 
our  senses,  an  interpretation  which,  in  its  com- 
plexity and  penetration,  would  seem  to  be  en- 
tirely incommensurate  with  the  data  themselves, 
and  we  exercise  over  physical  things  a  kind  of 
rational  control  which  greatly  transcends  the 
native  cunning  of  the  hand.  The  possibility  of 
this  forced  interpretation  and  of  this  rational 
control  depends  upon  the  use  of  two  complexes: 
(a)  A  logical  structure,  that  is  to  say,  a  body  of 
mathematical  and  conceptual  theory  which  is 
brought  to  bear  upon  the  immediate  materials  of 
sense,  and  (b)  a  mechanical  structure,  that  is  to 
say,  either  (i)  a  carefully  planned  arrangement 
of  apparatus,  such  as  is  always  necessary  in  mak- 
ing physical  measurements,  or  (2)  a  carefully 
planned  order  of  operations,  such  as  the  suc- 
cessive operations  of  solution,  reaction,  precipi- 
tation, filtration,  and  weighing  in  chemistry. 

These  two  complexes  do  indeed  constitute  a 
New  Engine  which  helps  the  mind  as  tools  help 
the  hand;  it  is  through  the  enrichment  of  the 
materials  of  sense  by  the  operation  of  this  New 
Engine  that  the  elaborate  interpretations  of  the 
physical  sciences  are  made  possible,  and  the 
study  of  elementary  physics  is  intended  to  lead 


THE  STUDY  OF  SCIENCE.  53 

to  the  realization  of  this  New  Engine:  (a)  By 
the  building  up  in  the  mind,  of  the  logical  struc- 
ture of  the  physical  sciences;  (b)  by  training  in 
the  making  of  measurements  and  in  the  perform- 
ance of  ordered  operations,  and  (c)  by  exercises 
in  the  application  of  these  things  to  the  actual 
phenomena  of  physics  and  chemistry  at  every 
step  and  all  of  the  time  with  every  possible 
variation. 

That,  surely,  is  a  sufficiently  exacting  pro- 
gram; and  the  only  alternative  is  to  place  the 
student  under  the  instruction  of  Jules  Verne 
where  he  need  not  trouble  himself  about  founda- 
tions but  may  follow  his  teacher  pleasantly  on  a 
care-free  trip  to  the  moon  or  with  easy  improvi- 
dence embark  on  a  voyage  of  twenty-thousand 
leagues  under  the  sea. 

What  it  means  to  study  physical  science  may 
be  explained  further  by  mentioning  the  chief 
difficulties  encountered  in  the  teaching  of  that 
subject.  One  difficulty  is  that  the  native  sense 
of  most  men  is  woefully  inadequate  without 
stimulation  and  direction  for  supplying  the  sense 
material  upon  which  the  logical  structure  of  the 
science  is  intended  to  operate.  A  second  diffi- 
culty is  that  the  human  mind  is  so  in  the  habit  of 
considering  the  practical  affairs  of  life  that  it 


54  bill's  school  and  mine. 

can  hardly  be  turned  to  that  minute  considera- 
tion of  apparently  insignificant  details  which  is 
so  necessary  in  the  scientific  analysis  even  of  the 
most  practical  things.  Everyone  knov^s  the 
capacity  of  the  Indian  for  long  continued  and 
serious  effort  in  his  primitive  mode  of  life,  and 
yet  it  is  difficult  to  persuade  an  Indian  "  farmer" 
to  plow.  Everyone  knows  also  that  the  typical 
college  student  is  not  stupid,  and  yet  it  is  difficult 
to  persuade  the  young  men  of  practical  and  busi- 
ness ideals  in  our  colleges  and  technical  schools 
to  study  the  abstract  elements  of  science.  In- 
deed it  is  as  difficult  to  get  the  average  young 
man  to  hold  abstract  things  in  mind  as  to  get  a 
young  Indian  to  plow,  and  for  almost  exactly  the 
same  reason.  The  scientific  details  of  any  prob- 
lem are  in  themselves  devoid  of  human  value, 
and  this  quality  of  detachment  is  the  most  serious 
obstacle  to  young  people  in  their  study  of  the 
sciences. 

A  third  difficulty  which  indeed  runs  through 
the  entire  front-of-progress  of  the  human  under- 
standing is  that  the  primitive  mind  stuff  of  a 
young  man  must  be  rehabilitated  in  entirely  new 
relations  in  fitting  the  young  man  for  the  condi- 
tions of  modern  life.  Every  science  teacher 
knows  how  much  coercion  is  required  for  so  little 


THE  STUDY  OF  SCIENCE.  55 

of  this  rehabilitation ;  but  the  bare  possibility  of 
the  process  is  a  remarkable  fact,  and  that  it  is 
possible  to  the  extent  of  bringing  a  Newton  or  a 
Pasteur  out  of  a  hunting  and  fishing  ancestry  is 
indeed  wonderful.  Everyone  is  familiar  with 
the  life  history  of  a  butterfly,  how  it  lives  first 
as  a  caterpillar  and  then  undergoes  a  complete 
transformation  into  a  winged  insect.  It  is,  of 
course,  evident  that  the  bodily  organs  of  a  cater- 
pillar are  not  at  all  suited  to  the  needs  of  a 
butterfly,  the  very  food  (of  those  species  which 
take  food)  being  entirely  different.  As  a  matter 
of  fact  almost  every  portion  of  the  bodily  struc- 
ture of  the  caterpillar  is  dissolved  as  it  were, 
into  a  formless  pulp  at  the  beginning  of  the 
transformation,  and  the  organization  of  a  flying 
insect  then  grows  out  from  a  central  nucleus  very 
much  as  a  chicken  grows  in  the  food-stuff  of  an 
egg-  So  it  is  in  the  development  of  a  young 
man.  In  early  childhood  the  individual,  if  he 
has  been  favored  by  fortune,  exercises  and  de- 
velops more  or  less  extensively  the  primitive  in- 
stincts and  modes  of  the  race  in  a  free  out-door 
life,  and  the  result  is  so  much  mind-stuff  to  be 
dissolved  and  transformed  with  more  or  less 
coercion  and  under  more  or  less  constraint  into 
an  effective  mind  of  the  twentieth-century  type, 
s 


*56  bill's  school  and  mine. 

A  fourth  difficulty  is  that  the  possibility  of  the 
rehabilitation  of  mind-stuff  has  grown  up  as  a 
human  faculty  almost  solely  on  the  basis  of  lan- 
guage, and  the  essence  of  this  rehabilitation  lies 
in  the  formation  of  ideas;  whereas  a  very  large 
part  of  physical  science  is  a  correlation  in 
mechanisms. 

The  best  way  of  meeting  this  quadruply  diffi- 
cult situation  in  the  teaching  of  elementary 
physics  is  to  relate  the  teaching  as  much  as  pos- 
sible to  the  immediately  practical  and  intimate 
things  of  life,  and  to  go  in  for  suggestiveness  as 
the  only  way  to  avoid  a  total  inhibition  of  the 
sense  that  is  born  with  a  young  man.  Such  a 
method  is  certainly  calculated  to  limber  up  our 
theories  and  put  them  all  at  work,  the  pragmatic 
method,  our  friends  the  philosophers  call  it,  a 
method  which  pretends  to  a  conquering  destiny. 


THE  DISCIPLINE  OF  WORK. 


The  first  object  of  all  work — not  the  principal  one,  but 
the  first  and  necessary  one — is  to  get  food,  clothes,  lodging, 
and  fuel. 

But  it  is  quite  possible  to  have  too  much  of  all  these 
things.  I  know  a  great  many  gentlemen,  who  eat  too  large 
dinners;  a  great  many  ladies,  who  have  too  many  clothes. 
I  know  there  is  lodging  to  spare  in  London,  for  I  have 
several  houses  there  myself,  which  I  can't  let.  And  I  know 
there  is  fuel  to  spare  ever5rwhere,  since  we  get  up  steam  to 
pound  the  roads  with,  while  our  men  stand  idle ;  or  drink  till 
they  can't  stand,  idle,  or  otherwise. 

RUSKIN. 


Two  generations  ago  school  was  supple- 
mented by  endless  opportunity  for  play,  and 
children  had  to  work  about  the  house  and  farm 
more  and  more  as  they  grew  to  maturity.  Play 
and  work  were  in  those  days  as  plentiful  as  sun- 
shine and  air,  and  it  is  no  wonder  that  educa- 
tional ideals  were  developed  taking  no  account 
of  them.  But  we  cling  to  these  old  ideals  at  the 
present  time  when  children  have  no  opportunity 
to  play,  when  there  is  an  almost  complete  ab- 
sence of  old  fashioned  chores  about  the  home, 
when  boys  never  see  their  fathers  at  work,  and 
when  the  only  opportunity  for  boys  and  girls  to 
work  outside  the  home  is  to  face  the  certainty  of 
reckless  exploitation!  What  a  piece  of  stupid- 
ity I  Our  entire  educational  system,  primary 
and  secondary,  collegiate  and  technical,  is  sick 
with  inconsequential  bookishness,  and  school 
work  has  become  the  most  inefficient  of  all  the 
organized  efforts  of  men. 

Yes  but  we  have  our  Manual  Training  Schools 
and  out  college  courses  in  Shop  Work  and  Shop 
Inspection.  Away  with  such  scholastic  shams  I 
The  beginnings  of  manual  training  must  indeed 
be  pirovided  for  in  school;  paper  cutting,  sewing 

59 


6o  bill's  school  and  mine. 

and  whittling.  But  from  the  absurdity  of  an 
Academic  Epitome  of  Industry  may  the  good 
Lord  deliver  us !  And  he  will  deliver  us,  never 
fear,  for  the  law  of  economy  is  His  law  too. 
The  greatest  educational  problem  of  our  time  is 
to  make  use  of  commercial  and  industrial  estab- 
lishments as  schools  to  the  extent  that  they  are 
schools. 

As  a  teacher  the  writer  recognizes  every  year 
more  and  more  the  ineffectiveness  of  the  study 
of  the  physical  and  mathematical  sciences  with- 
out the  accompaniment  of  shop  and  factory 
work;  and  next  to  the  direct  support  and  out- 
right control  of  higher  education  by  the  people, 
the  most  important  thing  is  that  the  discipline  of 
work  come  again  to  its  own  in  our  entire  system 
of  education. 

This  book  is  dedicated  to  the  kind  of  educa- 
tion that  is  proving  itself  at  the  University  of 
Cincinnati. 


PART  OF  AN  EDUCATION. 


Prairie  born; 
Once  his  feet  touch  the  slope  of  Western  mountain 
The  level  road  they  ever  more  shall  spurn. 
If  once  he  drink  from  snow-pure  crystal  fountain 
His  thirst  shall,  ever  more  consuming,  burn 
With  deepened  draughts  from  common  stream. 

Once  his  eye  catch  glimpse  of  more  substantial  glory 

Than  prairie  horizon  high  piled  with  clouded  foam 

His  quickened  yearning  shall  inspire  old  story 

Of  unbounded,  deathless  realms  beyond  the  sunset — Home! 


There  were  two  of  us,  a  prairie-born  tender- 
foot in  the  person  of  a  sixteen-year-old  college 
sophomore  and  the  writer.  After  months  of 
anticipation  and  planning  we  hurried  away  at 
the  close  of  the  college  term,  leaving  the  prairies 
of  Iowa  to  spend  a  short  vacation  in  the  moun- 
tains; and  we  arrived  in  Denver  on  a  perfect, 
cloudless  morning  in  June. 


Since  early  daylight  we  had  kept  an  eager 
watch  to  westward  across  the  even  plains  to  catch 
a  first  glimpse  of  the  great  Front  Range  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains  with  its  covering  of  summer 
snow,  and  after  making  some  purchases  of  camp 
supplies  we  climbed  to  Capitol  Hill  in  Denver 
to  see  the  foot-hills  soften  to  purple  and  the 
snow  fields  melt  to  liquid  gold  as  the  crystal  day 
turned  to  crimson  glory  with  the  setting  of  the 
sun. 


PART  OF  AN  EDUCATION. 


<>5 


■Ti"'""'  ■'""'■"""*"  --——'----■-•--• 


,^/y^.?^^-i(i  ", 


"  This  is  the  land  that  the  sunset  washes, 
Those  are  the  Banks  of  the  Yellow  Sea 
Where  it  arose,  and  whither  it  rushes 
This  is  the  western  mystery." 


66  bill's  school  and  mine. 

Late  in  the  evening  we  took  the  train  for  Love- 
land  from  which  place  we  were  to  start  on  a 
walking  trip  to  Laramie,  up  in  Wyoming. 

In  Loveland  we  purchased  a  pony  and  a  pack- 
saddle.  The  pony  had  never  been  broken  to  the 
saddle,  and  inasmuch  as  the  art  of  packing  has 
always  to  be  learned  anew  when  one  has  not 
practiced  it  for  several  years,  both  of  us  were,  in 
some  respects,  as  green  as  the  pony,  and  naturally 
somewhat  nervous  when  we  started  from  Love- 
land.  The  pony  served  us  well  however  and  at 
the  worst  only  gave  us  a  name  for  the  Bucking 
Horse  Pass  when  we  crossed  the  range  of  the 
Medicine  Bow  Mountains  from  the  waters  of 
the  Grand  River  to  those  of  the  North  Platte. 

From  Loveland  we  reached  Sprague's  Ranch 
in  Estes  Park,  thirty-five  miles  away,  in  two  days 
of  easy  travel  over  a  good  stage  road,  encounter- 
ing a  snow  squall  in  the  high  foot  hills  which 
left  us  cold  and  wet  at  sundown  of  the  first  day. 
In  Estes  Park  we  stayed  three  days,  fishing, 
running  up  to  timber  line  as  preliminary  exer- 
cise, and  writing  letters.  The  writer  had  spent 
two  previous  summers  in  Estes  Park  near 
Sprague's  Ranch  in  company  with  friends  from 
the  University  of  Kansas. 


PART  OF  AN  EDUCATION.  67 

Camp  Acclimatization, 
June  2 1  St. 

My  dear  little  Friend: — 

D.  and  I  reached  this  place  day  before  yester- 
day. I  saw  Fred  Sprague  yesterday.  He  had 
already  learned  of  our  presence  in  the  Park, 
having  seen  our  characteristic  hob-nail  tracks, 
and,  as  his  mother  tells  me,  he  remarked  upon 
seeing  them  that  "God's  people  had  come," 
meaning  the  Kansas  boys  with  whom  he  became 
acquainted  in  '86  and  '89. 

We  have  passed  thousands  of  flowers  since 
leaving  Loveland,  white  poppies,  cactus,  blue 
bells,  columbine  and  others  more  than  I  can  tell. 
The  blue  bells  are  of  the  same  kind  that  you  and 
I  found  near  Bloomington  several  weeks  ago. 
It  would  be  very  nice  if  you  and  I  could  make 
some  of  our  Saturday  excursions  in  this  country. 

I  wish  I  could  tell  you  more  of  our  trip.  Of 
course  it  is  scarcely  begun  as  yet,  but  I  know 
pretty  well  what  it  will  be;  hard,  for  one  thing, 
and  lonesome,  but  strangely  fascinating.  We 
are  beginning  already  to  have  that  attitude 
towards  nature  which  I  imagine  Indians  have, 
namely,  the  desire  to  get  something  to  eat  out  of 
everything  we  see.  [M.  had  written  her  brother 
D.  at  Moraine  post  office  of  the  pies  and  cakes 


68  bill's  school  AND  MINE. 

they  were  making  at  home.]  This  is  by  no 
means  greediness,  for  a  measured  appetite  is 
essentially  incompatible  with  the  conditions  of 
Indian  life.  In  fact  the  only  wild  animals 
which  are  not  gourmands  on  occasion  are  those 
which  eat  grass.  Of  course,  we  are  at  best  only 
Agency  Indians,  but  we  shall  soon  be  off  our 
reservation. 

Few  people  realize  the  utter  desolation  of 
many  parts  of  the  Rocky  Mountains;  and  often 
on  my  mountain  trips,  hungry  and  foot-sore,  my 
fancy  has  turned  to  what  my  friend  'Gric*  has 
told  me  of  the  utterly  desolate  Funeral  Moun- 
tains that  border  Death  Valley  in  southern  Cali- 
fornia, and  of  the  infinite  sunshine  there.  What 
would  you  think,  my  little  friend,  even  now  i 
amid  the  comforts  and  joys  of  home,  if  you  could 
hear  a  trustworthy  account  of  an  actual  trip  over 
those  dreadful  Mountains  and  into  that  awful 
Valley? 

I  hope  that  the  map  with  the  accompanying 
description  will  help  you  to  a  knowledge  of  the 
geography  and  geology  of  this  country.  I  send 
kind  regards  to  your  father  and  mother. 

Your  friend,  F. 

♦  See  page  71. 


PART  OF  AN  EDUCATION.  69 

Starting  from  Estes  Park  for  the  Grand  River 
country  we  stopped  over  night  at  Camp  Desola- 
tion in  Windy  Gulch,  an  enormous  amphi- 
theater rising  above  timber  line  on  the  north, 
east,  and  west,  and  opening  to  the  south  into  Big 
Thompson  Canyon.  The  mouth  of  the  Gulch  is 
dammed  by  the  lateral  moraine  of  an  ancient 
Thompson  glacier  and  behind  this  dam  is  a 
level,  marshy  stretch  with  a  few  green  spruce 
and  thickets  of  aspen,  black  alder  and  mountain 
willow.  Near  timber  line  also  is  a  scattered 
fringe  of  green  with  dots  of  white.  All  the  rest 
is  a  desolate  stretch  of  burned  timber. 

Trailing  to  the  head  of  Windy  Gulch  in  the 
morning  we  gained  the  summit  of  Thompson 
Ridge  which  we  followed  in  a  northwesterly 
direction  for  about  twelve  miles;  then  we  circled 
around  the  head  of  Big  Thompson  river  and 
went  down  to  Camp  at  the  head  of  the  Cache  la 
Poudre  river,  precisely  on  the  Continental 
Divide  in  Milner  Pass  about  two  hundred  feet 
below  timber  line  with  Specimen  Mountain  im- 
mediately to  the  north  of  us. 


70  bill's  school  and  mine. 

Specimen  Mountain  Camp, 
June  24th. 
My  Dear  B: — 

D.  and  I  are  going  to  run  down  to  Grand  Lake 
settlement  to-morrow  for  bacon  and  flour  so  I 
write  this  to-day.  I  have  been  in  camp  all 
morning  cooking  and  mending  while  D.  has  been 
looking  for  sheep  up  in  the  crater  of  Specimen 
Mountain.  He  saw  two  and  shot  without  effect. 
Specimen  Mountain  is  an  extinct  volcano  and 
sheep  come  to  the  crater  to  lick.  I  have  seen  as 
many  as  a  hundred  and  fifty  sheep  there  at  dif- 
ferent times  during  the  four  trips  that  I  have 
made  to  this  region,  but  I  have  hunted  them  only 
one  day  (the  first)  of  the  twenty-five  that  I  have 
spent  in  this  camp — ^without  success,  of  course. 

Flowers  in  profusion  are  found  at  these  alti- 
tudes already  where  the  shrinking  snow  drifts 
have  exposed  the  ground  to  the  warm  June  sun, 
but  under  the  drifts  it  is  yet  the  dead  of  winter. 
As  the  season  advances  the  snow  recedes,  and 
each  newly  uncovered  strip  of  ground  passes  with 
exuberant  haste  through  a  cycle  of  spring. 

We  came  over  from  Estes  Park  yesterday  and 
the  day  before.  At  one  point  I  carried  the 
horse's  pack  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  on  account 
of  steepness  of  trail  and  depth  of  snow,  leaving 
the  pony  under  D's  guidance  to  wallow  through 


PART  OF  AN   EDUCATION.  7 1 

as  best  she  could.  We  shall,  no  doubt,  have 
some  hard  work  getting  out  of  the  Grand  River 
valley  to  the  north  over  the  Medicine  Bow  but 
we  intend  to  keep  at  it.  We  are,  of  course,  likely 
to  get  cold  and  wet,  tired  and  hungry.  In  fact, 
I  am  neither  very  dry  nor  very  warm  now  as  I 
write,  for  it  is  half  snowing  and  half  raining; 
nor  hungry  (?)  for  I  have  just  eaten  three  slices 
of  bacon,  half  a  corn  cake  eight  inches  in 
diameter  and  an  inch  thick,  with  bacon  gravy 
made  with  flour  and  water,  and  nearly  a  quart  of 
strong  coffee  of  syrupy  sweetness.  I  do  wish  D. 
had  killed  that  sheep  this  morning!  We  hope 
to  get  some  trout  to-morrow  out  of  Grand  River, 
but  to  see  the  sheets  of  water  which  are  being 
shed  off  the  range  from  rain  and  melting  snow 
makes  one  feel  uncertain  of  the  trout  fishing.  I 
will  close  for  this  time  and  put  this  into  my 
knapsack.  To-morrow  D.  and  I  will  get  our 
"walkins"  on  bright  and  early,  and  pack  it  to 
Grand  Lake.  This  is  a  tough  country  beyond 
imagination. 

Yours  sincerely,  F. 


72  bill's  school  and  mine. 

When  trailing  above  timber  line  on  our  way 
to  Specimen  Mountain  and  subsequently  we 
were  on  snow  much  of  the  time;  below  timber 
line  at  high  altitudes  we  contended  about  equally 
with  snow  and  fallen  timber;  and  at  middle  alti- 
tudes where  the  timber  is  heavy  and  where  fires 
have  been  frequent  and  disastrous  the  fallen 
timber  alone  is  quite  enough  to  make  travel 
troublesome.  Mud  and  water,  fallen  and  fall- 
ing, we  encountered  ever5rwhere,  but  without 
much  concern.  The  greatest  vexation  to  the 
amateur  traveler  in  the  Rockies  is  to  slip  off  a 
log  in  trying  to  cross  a  stream,  and  thus  get  wet 
all  over,  when  if  one  had  been  reasonable,  one 
might  have  been  wet  only  to  the  middle.  An 
awkward  comrade  of  '89  did  this  so  many  times 
that  it  became  a  standing  joke;  but  'Gric,  as  we 
called  him,  that  is  to  say  Agricola,  after  his 
father  "Farmer"  Funston  of  Kansas,  developed 
grit  enough  to  take  him  through  Death  Valley 
in  southern  California,  to  take  him,  all  alone, 
1,600  miles  down  the  Yukon  River  in  an  open 
boat  and  across  200  miles  of  unexplored  country 
during  the  winter  night  to  the  shores  of  the 
Arctic  Ocean,  to  take  him  into  the  Cuban  army, 
where  he  received  three  serious  wounds,  and 
finally   to   take   him   through    the    Philippines 


PART  OF  AN   EDUCATION.  73 

with  our  Volunteer  Army  where  he  captured 
Aguinaldo. 

From  Specimen  Mountain  Camp  in  Milner 
Pass  we  made  our  way  to  Grand  River  over  an 
extremely  difficult  trail,  nearly  breaking  our 
pony's  leg  in  the  fallen  timber,  and,  finding  it 
impossible  to  reach  Grand  Lake  by  the  river 
trail  without  wetting  our  pack,  we  went  into 
{Mosquito)  camp  and  did  our  week's  washing. 
The  next  day  we  left  our  pony,  and  made  a  flying 
round  trip  of  thirty  miles  to  the  settlement.  The 
next  morning,  hoping  to  escape  the  mosquitoes, 
we  moved  camp  several  miles  up  stream  and  in 
the  afternoon  we  climbed  to  the  summit  of  one 
of  the  high  spurs  of  a  nameless*  peak  in  the 
range  of  the  Medicine  Bow.  We  got  back  to 
camp  late  in  the  evening  in  a  sharp  rain,  which 
continued  all  night. 

The  next  morning  promised  fair  weather,  and 
after  some  hesitation,  we  packed  up  for  the  trip 
over  to  North  Park.  Starting  at  eight  o'clock 
we  reached  the  deserted  mining  camp.  Lulu,  at 
eleven,  having  forded  Grand  River  seven  times, 

*A  volcanic  mass  of  rugged  spurs  radiating  from  a  great  central 
core;  points  and  ridges  rising,  beautifully  red,  from  immense  fields 
of  snow.  D.  and  the  writer  call  it  Mt.  McDonald,  but  having  made 
no  survey,  the  purely  sentimental  report  which  we  could  send  to 
the  map  makers  in  Washington  would  not  suffice  as  a  record  there. 


74  BILL'S  SCHOOL  AND   MINE. 

the  water  of  it  ice  cold  and  swift  as  an  arrow. 
We  then  began  to  climb  the  range,  the  summit 
of  which  we  reached  at  three  o'clock  at  the  pass 
of  the  Bucking  Horse  far  above  timber  line.  At 
four  o'clock  we  began  the  descent  into  the  valley 
of  the  Michigan  fork  of  the  North  Platte.  The 
rain,  until  now  fitful,  became  steady  and  we, 
determined  to  reach  a  good  camping  place,  kept 
our  pony  at  a  half-trot  until  eight  o'clock,  when 
we  found  a  deserted  cabin.  We  were  too  im- 
patiently hungry  to  make  biscuit,  which  we  ordi- 
narily baked  in  the  frying  pan  before  cooking 
our  bacon,  so  we  made  our  supper  of  graham 
mush,  bacon,  bacon  gravy  and  coffee.  Next 
morning  we  found  to  our  dismay  that  our  baking 
powder  had  been  left  at  the  Bucking  Horse — 
and  no  wonder,  for  our  pack  had  been  strewn 
for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  along  the  trail — so  we 
were  reduced  to  mush  again  for  breakfast. 


Gould's  Ranch, 
July  7th. 
My  Dear  B: 

We  have  just  returned  from  a  week's  hunt  in 
the  Medicine  Bow  Mountains  east  of  here.  We 
saw  elk,  killed  a  deer,  and  spent  the  Fourth  of 


PART  OF  AN   EDUCATION.  75 

July  on  a  prominent  but  nameless  peak  from 
which  we  got  a  splendid  view. 


After  breakfast  at  Camp  Mush,  Mr.  E.  B. 
Gould,  a  neighboring  cattle  rancher  who  has  no 
cattle,  was  attracted  by  the  smoke  of  our  camp- 
fire,  and  coming  up  to  see  us,  he  invited  us  to  his 
shanty  to  eat  venison.  We  went.  We  have  now 
been  with  him  a  week  and  we  are  starting  on  our 
second  carcass. 

Gould  lives  by  hunting  and  trapping,  and  by 
odd  work  in  the  Park  during  the  haying  season. 
He  came  to  this  country  years  ago  with  a  hunt- 
ing party  and  has  been  hunting  ever  since. 
Several  years  ago  he  took  up  a  claim  in  the  ex- 
treme southeastern  corner  of  North  Park  con- 
veniently near  to  hunting  grounds  in  the  Medi- 
cine Bow.  He  gave  up  his  claim,  for  good,  a 
year  ago,  and  made  an  overland  trip  to  New 
Mexico.  That  did  not  satisfy  him  either,  so 
now  he  is  back  in  his  old  shanty  again.  He 
thinks  we  are  the  toughest  "tender-foots"  he 
ever  saw.  He  approves  of  us,  there  is  no  doubt 
about  that,  and  he  has  pulled  up  his  stakes  to 
travel  with  us  just  for  the  pleasure  of  our  com- 
pany! He  takes  great  interest  in  D's  knowledge 
of  bugs,  and  D.  and  he  are  both  real  hunters  each 


76  bill's  school  and  mine. 

according  to  his  experience.  Before  we  fell  in 
with  Gould  I  could  persuade  D.  to  wanton  exer- 
tion in  the  way  of  mountain  climbing  but  now  I 
am  in  the  minority,  but  the  hunters  propose,  with 
a  flourish,  the  scaling  of  every  peak  that  comes 
in  sight. 

I  had  a  spell  of  mountain  fever  just  before  the 
Fourth  and  Gould  dosed  me  with  sage  brush  tea, 
the  vilest  concoction  I  ever  had  to  take. 

Gould  is  not  accustomed  to  walk  except  when 
actually  hunting,  so  he  has  a  riding  horse,  and  a 
trusty  old  pack  animal  whose  minimum  name  is 
^'  G —  d —  you  Jack,"  and  whose  maximum  name 
(and  load)  is  indeterminate.  Gould  is  going 
with  us  to  spend  a  week  in  the  Range  of  the 
Rabbit's  Ear,  far  to  the  west  across  North  Park. 
He  has  an  old  wagon  which,  if  it  holds  together, 
will  save  D.  and  me  some  tedious  steps  across  the 
desert,  for  indeed  this  "park"  is  a  desert.  We 
shall  pass  through  Walden,  the  metropolis  and 
supply  station  of  the  Park. 

Yours,  F. 

From  D's  Mother. 

My  precious  boy: 

I  trust  you  will  excuse  me  for  using  this  paper 
but  I  am  up  stairs,  and  no  one  [is]  here  to  bring 


PART  OF  AN   EDUCATION.  77 

me  any  other.  They  tell  me  I  need  not  wonder 
that  we  do  not  hear  from  you  and  I  shall  try  not 
to  be  disappointed  if  we  do  not  hear  for  a  while. 
Nevertheless  my  dear  boy,  the  uncertainty  I  feel 
in  regard  to  your  safety  will  make  a  letter  very 
welcome  indeed.  Perhaps  I  would  have  more 
courage  if  I  were  strong.  For  five  days  I  have 
been  very  uncomfortable.  I  am  sitting  up  some 
today  for  the  first  [time]  and  hope  soon  to  be 
well  as  usual. 

We  were  exceedingly  glad  to  hear  from  you 
from  Grand  Lake.  I  cannot,  however,  say  that 
the  account  of  your  experience  by  stone  slide* 
and  river  have  lessened  my  anxiety.  I  am  writ- 
ing now,  Thursday,  in  bed.  I  have  been  quite 
poorly  again.  We  shall  not  look  now  for  a  letter 
from  you  but  hope  to  see  you  face  to  face  before 
many  days.  May  God  bless  and  keep  you! 
Give  our  love  to  Mr.  F.  All  join  me  in  ten- 
derest  love  to  you. 

Your  devoted  mother. 

*The  crater  of  Specimen  Mountain  is  worn  away  on  one  side 
by  water,  and  the  crater  now  forms  the  head  of  a  ragged  gulch. 
Near  the  head  of  this  gulch  is  a  slope  of  loose  stone,  as  steep  as 
loose  stone  can  lie,  which  has  a  vertical  height  of  1500  or  2000  feet. 


jS  bill's  school  and  mine. 

At  Walden  we  laid  in  a  fresh  supply  of  flour 
and  bacon,  and  canned  goods,  especially  canned 
fruit,  to  last  us  while  we  stayed  with  the  wagon. 
We  then  pushed  on  to  the  west,  striking  camp  on 
the  West  Fork  of  the  North  Platte,  where  we 
stayed  two  nights.  Here  we  tried  hard  a  third 
time  for  trout  without  success,  but  we  turned  off 
the  water  from  an  irrigating  ditch  and  captured 
a  large  number  of  "  squaw  fish"  (suckers) . 

From  Camp  Chew  we  made  our  way  well  up 
into  the  foothills  of  the  Range  of  the  Rabbit's 
Ear,  and  then  packed  our  animals,  minimum 
Jack  and  our  pony,  and  pushed  up  the  range  over 
the  worst  trail  we  had  yet  encountered,  through 
an  absolute  wilderness  of  fallen  timber.  Rain 
with  fog  set  in  as  we  approached  timber  line, 
and  we  were  forced  to  go  into  camp  early  to 
wait  for  morning.  Morning  came  with  fog  and 
rain,  and  we  spent  the  entire  day  hunting  trail, 
only  to  go  into  camp  again  towards  evening. 
The  next  day,  however,  came  clear  and  we  made 
our  way  over  the  range,  through  Frying  Pan 
Meadow,  and  reached  camp  down  on  Elk  river 
towards  evening  without  difficulty.  We  found 
good  fishing  here  at  last  and  great  numbers  of 
deer  but  no  elk.  After  three  rainy  days  in  Elk 
River  Camp,  one  of  which  was  spent  jerking 


I 


PART  OF  AN  EDUCATION. 


79 


Looking    North   Across    Specimen   Mountain 
Stone  Slide. 


8o  bill's  school  and  mine. 

venison  of  D.'s  killing,  we  packed  up  and  made 
the  return  trip  over  the  range  in  one  day  of  hard 
travel,  going  into  camp  by  the  shore  of  a  shallow 
pond  well  out  on  the  barren  level  of  North  Park. 
The  next  morning  we  parted  company  with 
Gould,  and  in  two  days  we  made  sixty  stage  road 
miles  across  North  Park  and  over  the  northern 
portion  of  the  Medicine  Bow  Mountains  to 
Woods  post  office  at  the  edge  of  the  Laramie 
plains,  twenty-five  miles  from  Laramie. 

We  had  intended  walking  through  to  Lar- 
mie,  but  ninety  miles  and  two  mountain  ranges 
in  three  days,  not  to  mention  the  writer's  terribly 
blistered  feet,  had  temporarily  taken  some  of  the 
ambition  out  of  us,  and  after  some  fine  diplomacy 
D.  and  the  writer  each  found  that  the  other  was 
willing  to  descend  to  stage  coach  riding.  We 
accordingly  sold  our  fine  little  pony  for  five 
dollars,  packed  our  outfit  in  a  compact  bundle 
which  we  wrapped  in  our  small  tent  (which  had 
been  used  as  a  smoke-house  for  curing  venison  at 
Elk  River  Camp),  and  took  the  stage  for 
Laramie. 

At  Laramie  we  took  the  train  for  home,  and 
with  eyes  eagerly  awake  we  watched  for  hun- 
dreds of  miles  an  increasing  luxuriance  of  vege- 
tation which  reached  its  climax  in  the  marvel- 


PART  OF  AN   EDUCATION. 


8l 


In  the  Range  of  the  Rabbit's  Ear. 


82  bill's  school  and  mine. 

ously  rich,  endless,  undulating  fields  of  eastern 
Nebraska  and  Iowa: 

This  is  the  land  that  the  sunset  washes 
These  are  the  Waves  of  the  Yellow  Sea ; 
Where  it  arose  and  whiter  it  rushes, 
This  is  the  western  mystery. 

We  had  been  away  from  home  for  thirty-three 
days,  and  in  the  mountains  for  thirty-one  nights 
— Indians  reckon  by  nights ;  and  we  had  tramped 
more  than  three  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from 
Loveland  to  the  edge  of  the  Laramie  plains.  A 
large  portion  of  the  time  was  spent  at  high  alti- 
tudes where  the  weather  is  not  lamb-like  in  June, 
and  no  small  portion  of  the  three  hundred  and 
fifty  miles  was  mud  and  water,  snow  and  fallen 
timber,  through  a  country  as  rough,  perhaps,  as 
is  to  be  found  anywhere,  and  as  interesting. 
The  only  way  to  study  Geography  is  with  the 
feet!  No  footless  imagination  can  realize  the 
sublimity  of  western  Mountain  and  Plain. 
Nothing  but  a  degree  of  hardship  can  measure 
their  wide-spread  chaos  and  lonely  desolation, 
and  only  the  freshened  eagerness  of  many  morn- 
ings can  perceive  their  matchless  glory. 

We  reached  home  weather-beaten  almost  be- 


PART  OF  AN  EDUCATION. 


83 


Near  Frying  Pan  Meadow. 


84  bill's  school  and  mine. 

yond  recognition,  but  in  robust  health,  especially 
D.,  who  had  actually  gained  in  weight  during 
the  trip.  From  the  railroad  station  we  carried 
our  outfit,  and  venison,  two  miles  to  the  college 
grounds,  reaching  D.'s  home  about  midnight. 

Here  our  madly  exuberant  spirits  were  sud- 
denly checked  by  finding  that  the  illness  of  D.'s 
mother  had  become  extremely  serious.  How- 
ever she  was  determined  to  see  us  both — to  give 
a  last  approval. 

"  We  never  know  how  high  we  are 
Till  we  are  called  to  rise; 
And  then,  if  we  are  true  to  plan, 
Our  statures  touch  the  skies. 

"  The  heroism  we  recite 

Would  be  a  daily  thing, 
Did  not  ourselves  the  cubits  warp 
For  fear  to  be  a  king." 


PART  OF  AN  EDUCATION.  85 


After  four  days  D.'s  mother  died.  It  fell  to 
B.  and  F.  to  make  a  sculptor's  plaster  mask,  and 
photographs ;  and  to  F.  to  watch  overnight — and 
hasten  to  the  woods  in  the  morning. 

"  The  bustle  in  a  house 
The  morning  after  death 
Is  solemnest  of  industries 
Enacted  upon  earth. 

"  The  sweeping  up  the  heart 
And  putting  love  away 
We  shall  not  want  to  use  again 
Until  Eternity." 


86  bill's  school  and  mine. 


A  beautiful  Campanile  now  stands  on  the 
college  campus  erected  in  memory  of  D.'s 
mother  by  the  state  of  Iowa;  and  from  this 
memory-tower  a  chime  of  bells 

Greets 

Those  who  pass  in  joy 

And  those  who  pass  in  sorrow; 

As  we  have  passed, 

Our  time. 


PART  OF  AN  EDUCATION.  87 


"  Superiority  to  fate 
Is  difficult  to  learn. 
'Tis  not  conferred  by  any, 
But  possible  to  earn 
A  pittance  at  a  time, 
Until,  to  her  surprise, 
The  soul  with  strict  economy 
Subsists  till  Paradise." 


THE  USES  OF  HARDSHIP. 


Did  you  chance,  my  friends,  any  of  you,  to  see,  the  other 
day,  the  83rd  number  of  the  Graphic,  with  the  picture  of  the 
Queen's  concert  in  it?  All  the  fine  ladies  sitting  so  trimly, 
and  looking  so  sweet,  and  doing  the  whole  duty  of  woman — 
wearing  their  fine  clothes  gracefully;  and  the  pretty  singer, 
white-throated,  warbling  "  Home  sweet  home  "  to  them,  so 
morally,  and  melodiously!  Here  was  yet  to  be  our  ideal  of 
virtuous  life,  thought  the  Graphic!  Surely  we  are  safe  back 
with  our  virtues  in  satin  slippers  and  lace  veils — and  our 
Kingdom  of  Heaven  is  come  with  observation! 

RUSKIN. 


Ruskin  has  said  that  the  children  of  the  rich 
often  get  the  worst  education  to  be  had  for 
money,  whereas  the  children  of  the  poor  often 
get  the  best  education  for  nothing.  And  the 
poor  man's  school  is  hardship. 

It  is  generally  admitted  that  wealthy  Amer- 
ican parents  are  too  indulgent  towards  their  chil- 
dren. However  this  may  be,  many  an  American 
father  is  determined  that  his  sons  shall  not  go 
through  what  he  himself  went  through  as  a  boy, 
forgetting  that  the  hardships  of  his  youth  were 
largely  the  hardships  of  pioneer  life  which  have 
vanished  forever.  No  boy  with  good  stuff  in 
him  and  with  a  fair  education  unmixed  with 
extravagant  habits  of  living  can  possibly  have 
more  hardship  nowadays  than  is  good  for  him. 
Every  young  man  must  sooner  or  later  stand  by 
himself;  and  hardship,  which  in  its  essence  is  to 
be  thrown  on  one's  own  resources,  is  the  best 
school. 

But  the  most  alluring  school  of  hardship,  a 
sort  of  Summer  School  of  the  University  of 
Hard  Knocks,  is  a  walking  trip  into  the  moun- 
tains to  the  regions  of  summer  snow,  carrying 
one's  whole  outfit  on  one's  back  as  did  the  Kansas 

91 


92  bill's  school  and  mine. 

boys  of  '89,  or  indulging  in  the  ownership  of  a 
pack-pony  and  a  miner's  tent  as  did  D.  and  the 
writer  in  '95.  The  hardships  of  such  a  trip  are 
of  the  old  old  type,  the  facing  of  all  kinds  of 
weather  and  the  hunting  for  food,  and  they 
waken  a  thousand-fold  deeper  response  than  the 
most  serious  hunt  for  a  job  in  a  modern  city. 


THE  PUBLIC  SCHOOL 


Denmark  Hill,  April  ist,  1871. 
My  Friends: 

It  cannot  but  be  pleasing  to  us  to  reflect,  this  day,  that  if 
we  are  often  foolish  enough  to  talk  English  without  under- 
standing it,  we  are  often  wise  enough  to  talk  Latin  without 
knowing  it.  For  this  month  retains  its  pretty  Roman  name, 
which  means  the  month  of  Opening;  of  the  light  in  the  days, 
and  the  life  in  the  leaves,  and  of  the  voices  of  birds,  and  of  the 
hearts  of  men. 

And  being  the  month  of  Manifestation,  it  is  pre-eminently 
the  month  of  Fools; — for  under  the  beatific  influence  of 
moral  sunshine,  or  Education,  the  Fools  always  come  out  first. 

But  what  is  less  pleasing  to  reflect  upon,  this  spring  morn- 
ing, is,  that  there  are  some  kinds  of  education  which  may  be 
described,  not  as  moral  sunshine,  but  as  moral  moonshine; 
and  that,  under  these.  Fools  come  out  both  First — and  Last. 

We  have,  it  seems,  now  set  our  opening  hearts  much  on 
this  one  point,  that  we  will  have  education  for  all  men  and 
women  now,  and  for  all  girls  and  boys  that  are  to  be. 
Nothing,  indeed,  can  be  more  desirable,  if  only  we  determine 
also  what  kind  of  education  we  are  to  have.  It  is  taken  for 
granted  that  any  education  must  be  good ; — that  the  more  of 
it  we  get,  the  better;  that  bad  education  only  means  little 
education ;  and  that  the  worst  we  have  to  fear  is  getting  none. 
Alas  that  is  not  at  all  so.  Getting  no  education  is  by  no 
means  the  worst  thing  that  can  happen  to  us.  The  real  thing 
to  be  feared  is  getting  a  bad  one. 

RUSKIN. 


The  recent  exchange  of  visits  between  Penn- 
sylvanians  and  Wisconsinites  has  resulted  in  the 
organization  of  an  association  for  the  carrying 
out  of  the  Wisconsin  Idea  in  Pennsylvania;  but 
the  New  York  Evening  Post,  in  commenting 
upon  the  Pennsylvania  version  of  the  Wisconsin 
Idea,  calls  attention  to  the  fact  that  in  Wisconsin 
the  idea  is  carried  into  effect  by  public  agencies, 
whereas  the  Pennsylvania  version  is  to  be  exe- 
cuted privately!  The  Evening  Post  did  not, 
indeed,  say  execute;  I,  myself,  have  introduced 
the  word,  because  it  so  exactly  conveys  the  mean- 
ing of  the  Posfs  criticism. 

Why  is  it  that  so  many  good  people  take  up 
things  like  the  Boy  Scout  movement,  privately, 
never  giving  a  moment's  thought  to  our  rusting 
school  machinery?  Why  are  we  so  privately 
minded  as  to  enthuse  over  Mrs.  so-and-so's  out- 
of-the-city  movement  for  children,  never  think- 
ing of  the  potentialities  of  establishments  like 
Girard  College?  The  trouble  is  that  we  Amer- 
icans have  never  learned  to  do  things  together; 
we  still  have  the  loyal  but  lazy  habit  of  looking 
expectantly  for  a  King,  and,  of  course,  we  get  a 
Philadelphia   Ring,   the  lowest   Circle  in   the 

95 


96  bill's  school  and  mine. 

Inferno  of  the  Worst;  and  all  the  while  our 
might-be  doers  of  good  afifect  a  kind  of  private 
Kingship,  and  sink  into  a  mire  of  idiotic*  im- 
potence. 

The  seven  wonders  of  the  world  all  fade  into 
insignificance  in  comparison  with  one  great  fact 
in  modern  government,  a  fact  so  fundamental 
that  we  seldom  think  of  it,  namely,  the  great  fact 
of  taxation.  Funds  sufficient  to  meet  every 
public  need  of  the  community  flow  automat- 
ically into  the  public  treasury.  This  is  indeed 
a  very  remarkable  thing,  but  it  seems  almost 
ludicrous  when  we  consider  that  wasteful  ex- 
penditure of  public  funds  is  the  universal  rule, 
and  that  good  people  everywhere  are  struggling 
to  do  public  things  privately!  Was  there  ever 
before  two  such  horns  to  a  dilemma?  Fog 
horns,  grown  inwardly  on  every  Pennsylvanian's 
head!  When  a  city  of  10,000  people  has  an 
annual  school  budget  of  $60,000,  it  is  evident 
that  everything  can  be  done  that  needs  to  be 
done  for  the  schooling  of  children. 

I  believe  that  the  school  day  should  be  in- 
creased to  8  hours,  the  school  week  to  6  days, 
and  the  school  year  to  12  months;  with  elastic 

•  Among  the  Greeks  an  idiot  was  a  man  who  thought  only  of  his 
private  aflFairs,  a  privately  minded  man. 


THE  PUBLIC  SCHOOL.  97 

provision  for  home  work  and  out-of-town  visit- 
ing. I  believe  that  school  activities  should  in- 
clude a  wide  variety  of  simple  hand  work,  and  a 
great  deal  of  out-door  play,  with  ample  provision 
for  the  things  that  are  done  by  Boy  Scouts  and 
Camp  Fire  Girls;  and  when  children  are  old 
enough  and  strong  enough  to  begin  their  voca- 
tional training,  their  school  activities  should  be 
combined  with  work  in  office  and  factory.  Let 
no  one  imagine  that  such  a  program  is  imprac- 
ticable; for  in  the  city,  school  is  the  sum  of  all 
influences  outside  the  home,  and  the  school  day 
is  now  more  than  eight  hours,  the  school  week 
is  more  than  six  days,  and  school  lasts  the  whole 
year  through ;  these  are  the  facts,  say  what  you 
will;  and  everything  is  in  a  dreadful  state  of 
confusion — excepting  only  book  work.  It  is 
time  for  us  to  think  of  the  public  school  as  in- 
cluding everything  which  makes  for  the  efficient 
organization  and  orderly  control  of  the  juvenile 
world.  The  Junior  Municipality,  which  has 
been  recently  proposed,  added  to  existing  school 
work  with  provision  for  simple  manual  training 
and  outdoor  play  would  constitute  a  fairly  com- 
plete realization  of  this  wide  conception  of  the 
public  school,  and  any  narrower  conception  is 
hopeless  in  a  modern  city. 


98  bill's  school  and  mine. 

As  to  educational  values  there  is  a  widespread 
misunderstanding.  Imagine  a  teacher  taking  his 
children  on  a  hike  two  or  three  times  a  week  all 
Winter  long!  Every  parent,  hoping  for  his  chil- 
dren to  escape  the  necessity  of  work,  would  howl 
in  stupid  criticism  "  Is  that  what  I  send  my  chil- 
dren to  school  for?"  Or  the  school  superin- 
tendent might  have  the  point  of  view  of  the 
excessively  teachy  teacher,  who,  in  a  recent  dis- 
cussion of  the  Boy  Scout  idea,  admitted  that  out- 
door activity  would  be  a  good  thing — provided 
something  were  done  to  justify  it! — and  that 
something  was  understood  to  be  bookish !  As  to 
vocational  training,  on  the  other  hand,  we  must 
reckon  with  the  manufacturer  who  will  not 
train  workmen  for  his  competitors,  but  who 
expects  his  competitors  to  train  workmen  for 
him.  And  we  also  must  reckon  with  the  min- 
isterial member  of  the  school  board  who  meets  a 
proposal  for  vocational  training  with  the  ques- 
tion "How  then  will  you  educate  for  life? 

"  Ich  ging  im  Walde 
So  fuer  mich  hin 
Und  nichts  zu  suchen 
Das  war  mein  Sinn." 

Children  who  go  for  nothing  will  get  every- 
thing; and  to  be  fit  for  service  is  to  be  fit  for  life. 


^mmmmimmm 

UNIVERSITY  OTXAtlFdRNm  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

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OCT  2  1  1S33 

U.  C.  BERKELEY 


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